


Smiling at the Darkness

by iwtv



Category: Black Sails
Genre: Gen, Internalized Homophobia, M/M, Physical Abuse, adventures on the high seas, domestic!Abigail, jack anne and thomas bond, kidnapping/rescue, peach verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-16
Updated: 2018-03-18
Packaged: 2019-03-05 18:03:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 9
Words: 28,386
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13393293
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/iwtv/pseuds/iwtv
Summary: To whom it may concern,I have taken your companion, James Flint, away from you in the night. He and I have business unfinished between us and I seek answers from him.  If you wish to see him alive again you will wait for another note of this kind. Rest assured I mean you no harm; my only interest is in Flint and the wrongs he’s done me. We are nowhere near Savannah or on the mainland of the New World, so do not bother yourself searching.~William Bones Manderly and Co.Thomas re-read the note and then read it again. A cold sweat broke out over his forehead. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat there, blinking down at the paper in his hands. James was gone. James was taken from him.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> It's finally done! Took me the latter half of summer, fall and a bit of winter but it's done. Another longer peach verse fic because I really wanted a canon-like resolution of some kind between Flint and Billy (non-shipper) and also I had a craving to write some Gunnbones and how absolutely sweet Ben is to his murderous vengeful boyfriend. But of course the main focus is still James and Thomas. Anyways enjoy. Updates should be regular. Drop me some love in the comments if you feel so inclined. <3

James shifted his weight to the other foot, looking towards the town hall impatiently. Absently he took a bite of the green apple he held. It was crisp and sweet. There was food all around and in the air as the citizens of Savannah brought food and other wares on the church grounds as part of the town’s autumn celebration. The event was under full swing despite the fact that the town council was still in session—everyone had been growing restless after noon had come and gone and still, after three hours, the session had not ended.

James looked skyward and tried to bestow patience upon himself. The day was beautiful-mild and sunny, and the leaves were changing color rapidly now. He welcomed the cooler days; a refreshing change from the near-constant humidity of the West Indies, though his joints no longer shared that assessment.

James rolled his neck, hearing it snap in two different places. Also his knees tended to ache more with cooler weather (a condition his parents had both suffered from in England, though after so long in the tropics James had nearly forgotten he _was_ getting older).

“Waitin’ on that cousin o’ yours?” came a distinctly loud and heavily accented female voice to his left.

“Afternoon, Henrietta,” said James. He nodded at the younger woman who half-walked, half-strutted in front of him, hands on her small hips and grinning broadly at him as though her presence demanded his attention. She giggled at him.

“I don’t know which o’ you is better on me eyes,” Henrietta continued, “you or ‘im.”

Another giggle. James faked a smile and took another bite of his apple, suddenly desperate for conversation with someone else.

“Well Thomas and I appreciate your concern,” James said when Henrietta was clearly expecting a response. “Though I’m afraid Thomas has his sights set on another.”

He tried hard not to let his grin show as Henrietta looked taken aback, then suddenly interested. She opened her mouth and James winced, but before she could speak again a deep boom issued from James’s other side. It was Duncan Levingston, the local apothecary, and a much more tolerable sort.

“James, good sir!” he bellowed, offering James a hand and a smile. “Forgive me, but I never took you for the social type. Always much more reserved than that cousin of yours.”

James smiled politely, dipping his head in agreement.

“Yes well, even the lone wolf needs to run with the pack from time to time.”

It was a ridiculous analogy but that was how people often spoke here so James had adapted accordingly.

Duncan smiled good-naturedly and proceeded to ask James how the peaches were doing this season. James liked precisely for that reason, that instead of talking about himself right away he always asked about others.

Savannah and its populace were a far cry from Nassau.

There was a small commotion and James looked up to see the tall double doors to the town hall had swung open, releasing the dozen or so men from within.

“If you’ll excuse me, Mr. Levingston,” said James. He tried not to act too eager as he casually made his way through the scattered bodies over the church lawn. Thomas was never difficult to spot anywhere, and certainly not amongst his colleagues, being the tallest and most fair-haired of nearly all of them.

Thomas turned his head James’s way and James allowed himself to smile. It had been a week and a half since either of them had had any time away from work. Thomas had accepted the town magistrate’s offer for a seat at council and still ran the print shop in town and James had been unusually busy creating new furnishings for not one but two new families in the area. When they arrived home in the evenings it was the same routine of preparing and eating dinner, changing clothes, and then resting and falling asleep, both too tired for much else.

Thomas met him and they shared a practiced light embrace, the way two close cousins would. Thomas still gave James a quick squeeze around his waist and James reddened slightly but happily.

“Well, surely you must have plans to change the fate of mankind after a meeting of _that_ length,” James drolled out. His dry sense of humor had come into its own since they’d been in Savannah.

Thomas rolled his eyes and let out a huff.

“Ye gods James, I spent most of it arguing against Goodweather and Jacobs, the old bastards,” he grumbled, then shook his head as if to rid himself of their faces. “But no more on that now. Come on.”

Thomas jerked his head toward the church itself, mischievous gleam in his eyes. It was a Monday so the church was predictably empty when they entered through an unlocked side door that was opposite the celebratory events taking place. As soon as James had shut the door behind them Thomas had him up against the wall, lips smashing into his own. James moaned loudly and opened his mouth for Thomas’s roaming and eager tongue while his hands snaked inside Thomas’s shirt at the neck.

“We really need to fuck soon,” Thomas bemoaned, sucking on James’s earlobe.

“Mmm. I concur,” said James. He fumbled at Thomas’s buttoned-up breeches until they were unbuttoned.

“And can you believe that Goodweather had the audacity to suggest we actually promote Savannah as a slaver town?” Thomas suddenly said, breaking away from James’s face. “And I swear James, he looked right at me when he spoke it…”

“Shutup about it, will you?” James groaned, taking Thomas’s cock in his hand and then his own. Thomas’s eyes rolled up and he hummed at the contact.

“I’m sorry, it’s just that…he makes me…so angry…”

Thomas’s anger was fading, however, with each word as James gave much needed attention to his cock. He stroked them both, then let Thomas bring them to the brink. They spilled against the other’s shaft. James clamped a hand over Thomas’s mouth when he keened loudly, grinding himself into James. They stood panting against one another, trying not to laugh.

“Why is it the older I get the more apt I am to act like a reckless child with you?” James asked as he shrugged back into his pants.

“Because I drive you crazy and you love it,” Thomas answered, matter-of-factly. 

James growled in response and cupped Thomas’s cheeks, giving him a long and slow kiss. They left the church carefully but as usual no one was around. Chatter and laughter drifted to them from the other side of the church, the festivities in full swing now that the meeting was over.

“Shall we join them for at least a few minutes more?” asked Thomas.

James grudgingly agreed and Thomas gave him a knowing smile. James wanted Thomas all to himself and as soon as possible and they both knew it. But they also knew they must always be careful not to arouse even the smallest amount of suspicion if they wanted to continue living here.

So James went with Thomas back into the fray. But it was not so bad, especially now that Henrietta, he saw, was talking the heads off of the Ross brothers who were much more for her than he. When they finally left and arrived back at their cabin, blissfully away from the town proper, James shut the door behind them with a sigh of relief.

“The rest of the afternoon and evening to ourselves,” said Thomas. “And I’m making that stew for dinner, quick and easy.”

“And giving me that foot massage afterwards,” chimed in James.

“Ha!” Thomas cackled. “I hate feet and you know it. Though I’ll gladly massage other parts of your body that may need relaxing,” he added, grabbing James’s crotch. James slapped him away.

“I’ll go feed the horses,” he said.

*

That night James settled down into bed feeling quite content. Thomas was already asleep on his side, hand still resting over James’s bare stomach. They had made love earlier. It was slow and erotic and after their hurried fumbling this afternoon each of them had been able to prolong it.

Now, his body relaxed and satiated, James let his mind drift to the next few days. They would need to start harvesting the orchard soon; the peaches were plump and heavy on their respective limbs. He estimated they’d get a good haul in this season and with the extra money he would be able to start building a larger stable for the horses and a proper kitchen, away from the cabin where Thomas could hang all his herbs and they wouldn’t stink up the house.

*

His eyes snapped open, body jerking in response to an immediate threat. There was cloth clamped over his mouth, held there by a hand. He started thrashing but strong arms were clamped around his own as he was lifted off the bed. Something dark descended over his head and face-a burlap sack. He had a few precious seconds to make out Thomas’s form on the bed beside him but he was very still. Why the fuck wasn’t he woken?

James managed to kick his enemy-one of them-and heard a muffled groan. But then another set of arms clamped around his legs and he was lifted off the floor, being carried away. They’d tied a gag around his mouth. It bit hard into the corners. He thrashed his body until every muscle was on fire but to no avail. The men who handled him were as strong as he, if not stronger.

He knew they were carrying him out of the house, heard the door open and then shut behind them. His wrists were being bound. It registered then they were taking him _away,_ away from Thomas. James tried to cry out but the gag choked him off. Without warning he was thrown, landing hard on his side. There were voices, both male. He tried to focus on them but they spoke low and then a door was shut. He heard the distinct clicking sound only a carriage door made. The voices grew muffled, travelling around the carriage until they were at the front of it. He knew he was inside it when it bounced slightly as more weight was added. Then there was the snap of reigns and he began moving. He thrashed some more and rolled on his side but no hands restrained him. His bare feet kicked the sides of the carriage and he winced.

*

Thomas worked hard to open his eyes. He felt so very drowsy. Had he been that tired? There was a weight on his chest and limbs he fought against, finally pushing himself upright on the bed. A white piece of cloth-a rag he didn’t recognize-fell off his chest. He picked it up and immediately crinkled his nose.

“Jesus, what?” he muttered out loud. It had a strong chemical odor to it. Thomas shook his head, trying to clear his senses. Next to him James was gone but a piece of parchment lay on the sheets. Thomas’s heart skipped a beat as he snatched it up. The penmanship was not James’s.

_To whom it may concern,_

_I have taken your companion, James Flint, away from you in the night. He and I have business unfinished between us and I seek answers from him. If you wish to see him alive again you will wait for another note of this kind. Rest assured I mean you no harm; my only interest is in Flint and the wrongs he’s done me. We are nowhere near Savannah or on the mainland of the New World, so do not bother yourself searching._

_~William Bones Manderly and Co._

Thomas re-read the note and then read it again. A cold sweat broke out over his forehead. He swung his legs over the edge of the bed and sat there, blinking down at the paper in his hands. James was gone. James was taken from him.

He suddenly jerked out of the bed and ran through the cabin-empty-and flung the front door open.

“JAMES!”

He screamed the name out over and over again, spinning around in all directions but there was not the slightest trace of his love. He didn’t know what to do. Tears stained his cheeks. He didn’t know he was crying.

He stopped and bent over double, hands on his knees, as a wave of nausea swelled up in him. The world was spinning, unsteady and uneven. Thomas slumped down on the ground, letting out sob after sob. He clutched fistful of grass and tried to regain control of himself because this would not do. But.

He was fucking _gone._

Thomas rocked back on his rear and breathed deeply. The nausea had passed but his sobs shook his entire frame. At last he looked skyward and took a final deep breath. When he looked down again he saw wheel marks in the grass. He scrambled over to them. There were two deep set of tracks where a carriage had sat, long enough to make an impression. The tracks then grew fainter but still very distinct as they headed off into the dirt road, going south. Thomas ran out into the road but after a few feet it became impossible to tell the difference in the many carriage marks and hoof prints that littered the road. The carriage could have just as easily turned around and headed north, trying to throw him off on purpose.

Thomas blinked and remembered the note.

“William _Bones_ Manderly,” he muttered out loud. The name came to him quickly. Billy Bones. James had spoken much about him, including how he’d turned against all of them in the end.

 _I’m certain he hates me more than any of them,_ James had said once.

The nausea threatened to rise up again. Thomas closed his eyes and breathed deeply; faint scent of apple pie and dry leaves in the air. It steadied him, but more tears were spilling from his eyes.

He returned to their bedroom and picked up the note, now knowing its author and having at least a vague idea about his motives. The note promised no one would harm him but made no such claims about James. Yet Mr. Manderly claimed there was a chance to see James alive again. But what, exactly, did that mean? And how the fuck could he take Billy Bones at his word, a man who betrayed James and had tried to kill him more than once? There was nothing he could do except wait, if he even believed in Billy’s words.

The paper crumbled in his hands. Thomas slumped against the bed and slid to the floor, head in his hands.


	2. Chapter 2

His journey was longer than he’d anticipated, which was to say he had no idea they’d be travelling across the sea and only that; the sack had been kept over his head for hours on end and he relied on other senses to tell him they were at a port, then a dock, then he was being dragged onto a boat, then a ship.

He’d fought tooth and nail for a while, but with his wrists bound he was only an annoyance to them. Then he’d asked about Thomas, for which he received a punch in the gut.

“Let’s put the ether to ‘im, the shit,” one of them had suggested when he fought them aboard the ship. James grimaced. So. They had a way of shutting him down completely if need be. He realized with a jolt that Thomas must have been drugged with the same substance, explaining why he had not stirred when James had glimpsed him last.

The voice that had spoken was the singular voice James heard when the two men were near him. The other man, whoever it was, was being very careful not to let James hear him. James spent his time in whatever hold they’d thrown him in (it smelled like old bilge water and piss) contemplating who his captor could be. The list of people who had wanted him dead or had wanted him dead at some point was long but not as long as it once had been. Many of those people had long since bitten the dust. He ticked their names off one by one: Peter Ashe, the Admirality of the High Seas, Charles Vane, Benjamin Hornigold, Mr. Dufresne, Woodes Rogers(still alive he’d last heard but in debtor’s prison), Edward Teach, Billy Bones (dead or alive?), a few hurricanes, and probably God Himself.

John Silver flickered through his head but he was loathe to consider it a possibility. In the first place, to say that Silver _wanted_ him dead was not true, and the methods he’d been subjected to thus far were completely dissimilar from anything Silver had ever done or had indicated he was willing to do. Those facts, taken with the additional knowledge that Silver’s own past was indicative of great violence made James scratch his name off the list, though thoughts of his old quartermaster would continue to haunt him for some time. But that was neither here nor there at the time being.

And as for Billy Bones, well that was a giant question mark wasn’t it? He threw his mind back to that day and tried to recall the events as best he could. He had jerked his legs quickly, knocking loose Billy’s grip on him and sending him plunging down into the sea for a second time. He reckoned the fall to have been roughly twenty-five to thirty feet from where they had dangled off the mast. The fall itself probably would not have killed him. But then there was also the knife wound to consider. James had stuck Billy’s own knife into his thigh. He was fairly certain Billy had removed it, hadn’t he?

James struggled to remember. The events of that day seemed like a surreal dream to him now but yes, he was certain Billy had pulled out the knife, crying out as he did so. That meant he’d hit the ocean water with an open wound, bleeding heavily. It would have been very difficult to have climbed straight up Rodger’s ship and onto the main deck and James was nearly certain that had not happened.

Which meant that Billy had either drowned or had made it ashore, or….James grimaced slightly under the stinking burlap sack. The commotion and bodies in the water would have no doubt attracted sharks to the area. That, coupled with Billy’s bleeding leg, meant there was the possibility he’d been eaten by the things before he could have made it to shore.

James spent a large amount of time going over each item again and again, until he realized he was exhausted thinking about it. He hadn’t thought about his old bosun this much since everything had ended. He’d been relieved and even glad he had dropped him into the sea that second time, not giving two shits about the man as long as he was no longer a threat.

And oh, how Billy had hated him in the end.

And for all his irritating dissonance and protests over the years and even after his betrayal, James had never truly hated him back.

He let out a bitter chuckle at himself in the dank hold as the ship heaved heavily to the right. It was quite clear to him that he did, in fact, believe it was Billy who now held him captive.

His thoughts drifted back to Thomas. Had they only drugged him and left him alone, or had more been done to him? Though it had seemed as if only he were taken out of the cabin doubt hounded James’s mind. The question raged in his mind until he realized he was trembling all over. The very thought of rough, unfriendly hands touching Thomas was enough to make him want to scream and rage, and the thought of Thomas suffering any more torment than what he had already been through…

James squeezed his eyes closed, tears pricking the corners. He had to stop this. He had to calm himself. Silently he made a pledge that if ever the opportunity arose where he could satisfy a need with a trade of his safety-or even his life- for Thomas’s, he would.

He startled when a door opened. Heavy footsteps approached him. Something was placed on the floor beside him. And then his bonds were cut from him. By the time James had flung them off and had jerked the sack off his head the door was already closing shut again. There was a bowl of food on the floor.

*

_Curacao Island, Caribbean, 12 days later_

He stepped outside the hold amid two men pointing pistols at him. He didn’t recognize them except that they were clearly pirates. They bound him again, this time just his wrists and behind his back, then guided him up the stairs until they reached the main deck.

James blinked furiously in the bright light of the sun. He sucked in the fresh air, grateful. It was also salty. Gulls cried overhead. He heard waves crashing in the distance. The men with pistols prodded him across the deck. The ship they were on was a schooner. He took note there was no black flag flying, or any flag for that matter. He did a quick count of the men he spotted on deck; less than a dozen, including the two men who escorted him. They were anchored some five hundred feet from shore. There was no dock; a wild location.

They shoved him roughly forward and down into a long boat, where two oarsmen awaited him. He ventured to speak to them.

“Where are we-”

The butt of a pistol connected to his jaw hard.

“Shut up.”

James eyed his attacker. His companion cocked his pistol pointedly. There would be no conversing with these two. He knew then they were simply muscle. James fell silent as they rowed towards shore and instead focused on the beach and the figures of men on it. There was a makeshift camp set up, reminiscent of Teach’s camp off Okracoke Island. As their boat drew near James didn’t recognize any of men there, save for one, who was looking directly at him, waiting.

James let his captors haul him out of the boat, now holding his arms as they dragged through the shallows and to the man waiting patiently for them.

Ben Gunn didn’t look like a pirate. He never had, or a criminal of any kind for that matter, not with his gentle face and kind, shock-blue eyes. He looked very much the same as when James had last seen him, with long, scraggly hair, and those eyes that were so bright as to be almost otherworldly. But Ben was armed; a thick belt wrapped around his waist and his hand rested over the hilt of a sword.

Still he nodded at James, face neither unkind nor kind.

“Mr. Flint,” said Ben in his heavy Irish accent. “I’m to escort you to your living area for the time being and to address some of the questions you no doubt have, if I can.”

Gunn seemed to look at him expectantly.

“Where the fuck are we?” Flint asked at last.

“The other side of Willemstad, on Curaco Island.”

“Willemstad?” Flint repeated with surprise. That was off the coast of South America. Dutch territory.

Gunn nodded. Flint eyed him, then looked around. His two guards kept their grip tight on his arms. Right. Next logical question then.

“Why the fuck am I here?”

Gunn’s mouth twitched, though if it was towards a frown or a smile James wasn’t certain.

“A complicated question, I’m afraid,” said Gunn. “And one I’m not the right person for the asking of. He wants you to wait a little longer. Come with me.”

And they were on the move again, with Gunn leading them down the beach and away from the camp. It was Billy, it _had_ to be Billy. Still, he did not say so.

“Who wants me to wait? For what?” James demanded. “Where the fuck-”

Another flash of blinding pain hit his jaw again, this time from the second captor who hadn’t assaulted him yet.

“Shut yer gob.”

James felt the old familiar rage flare up inside. He sneered at the man but fell silent again.

They took him to where the terrain grew rocky before high seaside cliffs jutted up into the sky. They crossed a tidal inlet and walked over a sandbar to where there was more immediate access to the cliffs and a cavern there.

The air turned cool as they ducked inside, still sloshing through shallows. They followed the natural curve of the cave only a few yards to where the rocks formed a smooth, sand-less beach.

There had been manacles fastened to the wall.

A feeling less familiar than rage flared up in him: fear. He considered fighting again. He could probably surprise and knock down at least one of his captors right away, but his eyes fell to Gunn’s hand over his sword and the second pistol still trained on him. He’d never make it. And neither of the men holding pistols looked like they knew what restraint was.

He allowed himself to be chained to the wall, well aware that it was low tide at the moment.

“Am I to drown to death, then?” he gruffed out at Gunn.

To his relief Ben shook his head.

“No. The tide will only rise to perhaps your waist in here. You’ll be checked on, provided with food and water…as long as you remain calm.”

“You mean as long as I don’t try to kill anyone?”

Now Ben did smile-a chuckle, really, and James almost believed that Ben liked him. From a small pouch Ben pulled out a loaf of bread and some dried meat and sat it down beside James.

“Tomorrow. He’ll see you tomorrow,” he said, and then he and the other two men turned and waded back out of the cave.

*

Thomas jerked when there was a knock at the door. He’d been writing the fifth version of a reply of sorts to Billy’s letter. Pages lay scattered all over his writing desk and on the floor around him, amid a glass of water and half-consumed chicken. He hadn’t slept properly and the knocking was jarring after the quiet for so long.

Thomas dragged himself away from his desk and answered the knock. It was Abigail and her fiancé, Jonathan Robinson. Earlier in their relationship Abigail might have still feigned propriety when seeing whatever it was on Thomas’s face he couldn’t hide, but now she tossed it aside, brows drawing up in concern.

“Thomas, what is the matter?”

Jonathan, a young fellow two years Abigail’s senior and very much in love with his future wife, still looked contritely at Thomas. Thomas gave him a rueful smile.

“Good day, Mr. Robinson. I’m sorry to have to ask, but would you mind terribly if I borrowed your fiancé for a few moments?”

As he’d hoped Jonathon was immediately understanding, sensing something was in the air but also respecting his friendship with Abigail.

“Take your time, love,” he said to her now, kissing her hand. “I’ll tend to Philip’s bad leg, poor old lad,” he said, indicating their horse Thomas recognized as the old stallion who was past his prime.

Thomas nodded gratefully. Once he and Abigail were alone Thomas slumped back down in his chair, pinching the bridge of his nose where he was certain he felt a headache coming on. Abigail looked around and took in the scattered papers, the half-eaten dinner and Thomas’s ragged appearance. She laid a hand on his shoulder, brown doe eyes more like Miranda’s each passing day.

“What has happened?” she asked softly, measured, and suddenly Thomas realized he was looking at a woman, not a young girl anymore.

Despite how tired he felt the tears still came to his eyes, burning. He blinked slowly so they spilled and he wiped them away.

“James has been kidnapped, Abigail.”

Her eyes grew wide, mouth opening but Thomas went on before she could ask.

“He was taken in the middle of the night, about two weeks ago. Whoever it was drugged me, made me breathe in ether so I would pass out while it happened. Not a trace of him or his captors was left when I came to, except for this.”

He pulled open his desk and handed her the crumpled letter. He’d taken to reading it and drinking most nights. The thought of Abigail catching him in such a state made him feel ashamed, but not nearly enough to consider stopping.

He watched her face as she read it, then looked away. Abigail made a small noise, hand coming to cover her mouth in horror.

“My God,” she breathed out. “Who is William Bones Manderly? And what the devil does he want with James?”

The anger had already crept into her voice. Thomas explained as best he could who Billy Bones was. However he didn't have to explain long, because suddenly Abigial's eyes grew wide again. She had known Billy Bones during her trip to Charlestown with James and Miranda. Why he had kidnapped James and had not simply killed him remained a mystery to him, no matter how much he thought about it when he was sober or drunk.

“No ransom, no indication beyond these “wrongs” he mentions,” said Abigail at length after re-reading the paper. “Yet clearly he thinks there is some score to settle, and I’d hazard it is of a personal nature.”

Thomas nodded, putting the note back in his desk.

“I came to the same conclusion. And now it’s been over two weeks and still no second note.”

Misery coated his every word. Seconds later he found himself being embraced. Abigail had knelt and wrapped her arms around him tightly, her warm cheek against his own. He blinked dumbly, then melted into the touch, sobs rising up again.

“You will see him again I swear it,” she said firmly.

Thomas pulled back from her, eyes searching hers and finding a well of strength there despite her own dismay.

“Ye gods, you remind me so much of Miranda,” he murmured, stroking a thumb lovingly over her cheek. Abigail smiled.

“You tell me that every time I see you.”

“Because it’s always true every time I see you.”

Abigail insisted on staying and cooking Thomas supper despite his protests. She helped herself to the kitchen, shooing him away each time he attempted to help her and managed to throw together a decent meal for the three of them.

Thomas wasn’t hungry but he ate what he could. Jonathan graciously kept talking about his new property and the house he and Abigail would live in once they married in the spring. Thomas tried to focus on the conversation but had little real interest. When dinner was over Thomas saw them to the door. Abigail lingered, kissing him on the cheek and telling him she would make daily visits, to bring him food and see that he was eating properly if nothing else. He promised to tell her the moment he received another letter.

*

He did not have to wait long. It happened three days later. He was out walking in the orchard with a basket and picking peaches. It was past time for the harvest but Thomas had all but forgotten about it. Now he did it simply as a way not to think about James, but peaches reminded him of his love as much as anything else did and how they had built their lives here after discovering the abandoned orchard.

He recognized the messenger boy from a distance as he ran through the yard, his coattails too long on his beanpole body.

“Letter for Mr. McGraw,” he announced as he reached Thomas. Thomas practically dropped the basket to take the letter. He ripped it open and read its contents:

_To Whom it May Concern,_

_Know that Flint is being taken to Curacao Island. I intend to keep him here for as long as it suits my need. I require no money nor any kind of bargaining from you or anyone else. Nothing will cause me to release him until I am finished with him. Flint has much to answer for and I intend to draw those answers from him, one way or another. If you attempt to come to the island, or send a rescue party in search of him, or attempt in any way to interfere, I promise the consequences will be dire for you._

_~William Bones Manderly and Co._

“Sir?”

Thomas looked up from the letter. He’d forgotten the boy was even there. He went back into the cabin and retrieved some coin.

“Tell me who gave this letter to you,” Thomas said before handing over his pay.

The boy frowned. “I dunno his name. Never seen him before. But he was some kind of sailor. They all look the same.”

The boy held his hand out. Frowning, Thomas relented and paid him. Either the messenger was travelling in disguise or he was no pirate, and perhaps not connected to Billy Bones at all save as another messenger to keep Thomas in the dark.

The latter made the most sense, though Thomas hated it. James had told him that Billy was not only very perceptive but also uncommonly lettered; chances were that he was smart enough not to give Thomas a chance for the upper hand.

Thomas struggled to think straight, to control the tremor in his hand as he clutched the note. He was forced to question why Manderly would send another note simply to inform him of James’s destination but asked for nothing in return. It made no sense, except to reinforce the idea that Billy truly hated Flint and wished to see him suffer in some way. Furthermore Billy was warning him to stay away, which was fucking _cruel_ after revealing their whereabouts and Thomas decided he hated the man then and there.

It was obvious he had to act, but how? Thomas ran a hand through his hair and closed his eyes. He needed to be calm, to focus and _think._ He needed to know where the fuck Curacao Island was.

A short time later he was at his print shop. He unlocked the door and went to the back of the shop, where there was a small collection of scrolls, mostly maps. He found the one he was looking for and unfurled it across a desk. After a couple of minutes of carefully dragging his index finger over the multitude of islands that made up the West Indies he found the island further south than he’d expected, off the northern coast of South America.


	3. Chapter 3

He called on Abigail first thing the next morning, sending the messenger boy to Goddard Plantation, where Abigail still resided with her aunt and uncle until her marriage to Jonathan. Thomas waited anxiously for her horse out front, his stomach a ball of nerves. When she arrived he told her of his plans.

“You mean to sail all the way to the island? By yourself?” Abigail asked when she had the gist of his thoughts. Thomas shook his head.

“No. I mean to sail to New Providence, to Nassau. And find the people who will be able and-I believe-willing to take me the rest of the way.”

“Pirates,” Abigail said, her tone cautious. Thomas understood her worry. He clamped a hand over hers.

“Not just any pirates. People who knew James, who worked and fought alongside him. They would surely know the way to Curacao.”

“But you don’t even know if these pirates are still alive,” said Abigail. “What will you do if they are dead, or in prison?”

“Then I will find and pay others to take me there.”

Abigail looked away, worry lines marring her otherwise beautiful forehead. Her concern for him was touching.

“Abigail, I must do this,” he said softly, rubbing a thumb over her hand reassuringly.

“I know,” she replied, turning back to him. “I would expect nothing less.”

He smiled at her. He and James had never openly talked about their relationship to her, but they had never had need to. Abigail knew perfectly well, and she loved them both regardless.

“I need to ask a favor of you,” said Thomas.

“Anything.”

“The trees need tended to. With neither me nor James working, we at least need someone to gather peaches for sale…”

“Consider it done,” Abigail cut him off. “I shall employ the help of the McMullen boys. And I shall keep watch over the cabin and the horses. Jonathan adores horses and will be happy to help with them.”

There was no caution in her tone now, nothing but resolve that reminded him of Miranda again and that arguing against it would be futile.

“Bless you, Abigail,” he said. He automatically moved to kiss her forehead but thought better of it.

“Forgive me,” he blushed, “I forget you are to be wed soon.”

“Thomas,” she said with a gracious smile, “It’s all right. You may kiss my forehead until I’m an old crone. I rather hope you do.”

Thomas blushed again and squeezed her hand instead. Then Abigail turned somber.

“Please bring him back,” she said, brown eyes growing moist. Thomas felt his own tear up yet again. He wondered how often one could weep before their eyes dried up altogether. Abigail hugged him again, a tight, almost desperate hug and Thomas struggled not to break down in her arms.

*

He dreamed of Thomas’s hand caressing its way down his side, resting over his hip as he bent in and soft lips touched his own. Then Thomas was in the orchard, laughing and falling clumsily off a stool trying to get at a high limb. Betsy was watching, ears pinned back a wild look in her eye before Thomas’s spill caused her to take off speeding away from them. He was laughing at both of them…

James snapped into consciousness. He was surprised he’d dozed off, thought it couldn’t have been for more than a few minutes.

He’d slid down the cold and wet wall at his back, arms falling asleep and now tingling uncomfortably in their shackles above his head. He struggled to stand up straight in the cold water that surrounded him. He was buried waist-deep in the Caribbean Sea, just as Ben Gunn had said. It had been high tide for some time now. A shiver ran through him. He still had several hours to go before the tide would start to recede. The familiar echo of crashing waves filled his ears. They were no longer a comfort but instead a reminder of his current situation.

He shivered again and bent one leg then the other, trying to find relief from standing. He had precious little slack from the chains that held him; enough room for a couple of steps away from the wall and nothing else. Only a thin band of moon and starlight reached into the cave, stopping when it curved towards him. Everything was black.

James had just enough room to turn around and face the wall where the manacles were bolted into the wall. He felt his way around them, looking for a weakness. He felt none. He fingered along the two thick pieces of iron that attached his chains to the wall. No cracks nor any sign of rusting yet. He’d already examined the iron clamped around his wrists earlier and found no fault in them either. The manacles were relatively new and in good condition.

James’s eyes roamed over his surroundings again. The cave ended a few feet ahead of him as best as he could tell. The water sloshed up against the rock wall every so often. Perhaps the cave extended underneath the water-he’d noticed the water was deeper there when they first brought him here at low tide-but it was impossible for him to reach that far to even find out.

James closed his eyes and put his head back against the rock wall. Immediately there was Thomas behind his eyelids, talking excitedly about his new council seat as he cooked, moving back and forth and only half paying attention to himself and James was trying to hide his grin…

If they had hurt him…

His eyes blazed open and he spun around, grabbing the chains and furiously yanking on them, pressing his bare foot against the wall and pushing back with all his might. He screamed and raged, voice bouncing off the cave walls all around him.

“What the fuck’s goin’ on in there?” a voice bellowed to him from outside the cave. He heard legs splashing into the water. A bright yellowish light filled the bend that curved around to him.

“Unless you’re drowning shut the fuck up.”

It was one of the guards who had escorted him here, lantern in hand and sneering at him.

“My foot is caught on something. I can’t get it free,” said James.

“I don’t give a rat’s ass.”

“I’ll keep fucking screaming.”

Muttering curses under his breath the guard approached him. He shifted the lantern to his other hand to hold above the water and dipped his arm down at James’s feet. James waited until his head bend sideways, scraggly hair dragging the waterline. He raised his leg and hooked it around the man’s neck, using his muscles to push him underwater. The man’s arms flailed up, lantern flying up and dropping into the tide. James clamped down hard. His chains were long enough so he could hold the man’s head underwater as well. Minutes later the thrashing stopped and the last bubbles of air floated to the surface. James waited another minute before letting go.

*

The next morning Billy Bones found Donner’s boat floating in the cave’s mouth, knocking up against the sharp rocks. He found Donner floating behind it, face-down in the shallows. He flipped the man over with his boot and frowned. Donner’s bloated face stared up at him, gray and not breathing. Billy sloshed through the water until he came to his captive.

James looked up at the man who appeared around the bend. He gave him a half-smile, half-sneer. Billy’s eyes looked him over, then back to dead Donner, shaking his head.

“Haven’t lost your edge, I see,” said Billy at last.

James said nothing, eyeing his captor. His hair had grown out, not long but longer than James had ever seen it. There were dark circles under his eyes, cuts and scratches on his face. He was armed, pistols and swords on his belt. Billy followed his gaze and smiled darkly.

“It’s not as if moving inland and living in a quaint little cabin growing peaches was an option for me,” he said.

“No, I suppose not.”

Billy stepped closer and leaned against the edge of James’s rock prison, crossing his arms. James noted it looked like he had a slight limp in his step.

“You’re wondering how I’m alive and why I’ve gone through the trouble,” he began, “Of bringing you here and not just killing y—”

“Did you do anything to Thomas?” James cut him off.

Billy blinked, the name evidently having no meaning to him.

“The man I was with,” James gritted through his teeth. If Billy took just two steps closer James could strangle the bastard.

“You mean your sleeping companion,” Billy said with a despicable smirk James wanted to bloody. “He was not harmed in any way. Knocked him out with a little ether when we came for you, is all. I have no interest in him. But I wanted you to experience, it, being captured and dragged away as you were.”

James felt his eye twitch.

“So you’re here to off-load blame on me, is that it? To point your finger, tell me I’m the reason you are the way you are? Go fuck yourself, Billy.”

Billy let out a derisive little laugh. “You don’t care what I think of you, I know that. But you did once.”

There was subtle shift in Billy’s countenance before he turned around and waved a hand at their surroundings.

“I’m sure you don’t recall the cave, but you should remember the shore. Nine years ago the Walrus came here, nine years to the month.”

James shifted his weight to his other foot. His muscles ached, legs screaming for rest after a night of standing. Yet nine years ago came to him, slowly dredged up from his mind like weighing an anchor—heavy and resistant. Billy saw the recognition in his eyes and nodded.

“We came here the day after I joined the crew. I remember I’d only seen you battling Brits the day before, cutting down the men who’d held me against my will. But then you introduced yourself to me formally here, made me believe that being a pirate might not be so bad. You and Gates.”

Billy’s head half-turned towards him then, Hal’s name soft on his lips.

James set his jaw, eyes downcast. He was, in fact, ashamed of what he’d done to Gates. But he wasn’t looking to have Billy lord such a fact over him.

“I’ll always regret what I did,” said James, looking up at Billy. “Was it fucking terrible? Of course it was. Gates was my friend and I don’t give a damn if you believe me or not.”

Billy gave another dark smirk that ended in a seer. He looked way from James, swallowing.

“Still, you must have known I never looked at you the same after his death,” he said. “Yet even so I pledged my support for you, still backed you against Hornigold. Hell, I forced Mr. Dufresne off the crew because of you.”

James looked up sharply, not remembering that instance at all. Billy nodded, face a now a mask.

“That’s right. Told you he defected. Didn’t tell you why.”

“What the fuck do you want from me?” James asked, suddenly too old and tired to keep up whatever the fuck this was. “You want an apology? To hear I’m fucking sorry things went the way they did? I am. Yes, I treated you like shit. Yes, I had my own agenda, my own reasons…”

“You’re goddamn right you did!” Billy spat at him with sudden ferocity, getting as close as he dared to James.

“And after all this time you finally fucking admit it,” he added, face inches from James’s and full of venom.

James didn’t know what pissed him off more—Billy’s lack of understanding or the wasted hatred that burned in him. Still he barely flinched when James grabbed him by his vest collar and shoved him up against the wall. The sound of steel sliding out from a sheath registered. He felt the faint bite of a blade at his belly.

“Tell me,” said Billy, “Tell me _why._ ”

Why?

James breathed shallowly out his mouth, caught off guard in his burst of anger, but still wanting to throttle Billy. Yet he knew if he had any hope of seeing Thomas again he must control his anger. For now.

Billy’s eyes stared into his own and James allowed himself to take a closer look at the shell of a man before him. There questioning he saw there was genuine.

He relented, letting go of the other man.

“Why what?” he gruffed out.

“Why any of it. All of it,” replied Billy. “I know it was more than just hatred of the navy, of England, or of some lofty idealism. Men hate for _personal_ reasons, because they feel they’ve been so deeply wounded there is no salve that could heal them.”

Billy glowered at him then. James’s eyes drifted to the dagger still between them. There would be no discussion of anything as long as it was there.

Billy slowly put it away.

“I’m fucking thirsty,” said James.

*

It was three days before Thomas was able to procure passage on a ship heading to New Providence. He spent the time showing Abigail around the cabin and their property and how best to store the peaches once they had been picked. He cleaned his print shop almost frantically, dusting every nook and cranny in the building in an effort to keep his mind wondering to dark possibilities regarding James. Then he told his apprentice he needed to go out of town on urgent family business, inventing a story about his gravely ill mother. The younger man, he knew, would pass the information around town. Even so Thomas still needed to tell the council members the same.

By the time he’d said good-bye to Abigail and Jonathan and a few other people he cared enough to give farewell to he was inwardly a wreck and grateful when he finally stepped on board The Blackfish, captained by a Mr. Larkin. He had a delivery of sugar cane (which Thomas could have easily gone the rest of his life without seeing another stalk of), tobacco, and some other odds and ends for Nassau. There was perhaps a dozen citizens bound for the island as well; two families and himself, the only lone traveler.

He made sure the captain knew he was not trouble, suffering through polite chatter, then doing the same with a few of his fellow shipmates before retiring early below deck to be my himself.

He fell into a routine of wondering around the ship and chatting up the crew and other travelers for a while but then inevitably going off by himself where he would think and re-think his strategies once he reached the island he had spent so much of his time defending.

He wondered about Nassau. He always had, ever since he’d devoted himself to its reform. Ever since he’d been with James. And naturally his curiosity had only grown listening to James’s many stories about the place and some of its remarkable people. Despite the tragedies he knew had also taken place there he remained curious.

James had wanted him to be its governor, once.

Now he would arrive on its shores as just another body, there for reasons no one cared about, save for the few (he hoped) he would find there.

The notion was fine with him. He couldn’t deny that he still wished, upon occasion, that things had gone that way, but ever since finding James again most everything else in the world had become trivial.

His heart clinched in his chest and he fought off the tears as he sat in the corner of the mess hall, finishing supper. He took a long drink of the ale in his cup. It tasted like watered-down piss but it made him light-headed all the same.

As he lay in his hammock at night he struggled to fight off the nagging thought of what he would do if he arrived to find James dead. His mind simply could not process it.

However he did recall a play by William Shakespeare titled Romeo and Juliet. If James was gone from this world he figured he might end himself as the two star-cross’d lovers had so that they might be together after death.

The thought frightened him, but perhaps not as much as it should. He decided to focus on reciting the Lord’s Prayer in Latin, then Greek, then he recited what he remember from the various works of Swift and Donne and Hobbes in Latin and then Greek, though he had never learned Hobbes in Greek nor Swift in Latin.

He occupied himself this way, with intermittent thoughts of James flickering in his head, until he fell to sleep.

They arrived at New Providence on the 25th of September, eight days later. The island looked much the same as other tropical islands, with a bustling port and beach, its citizens modestly dressed and probably part of the emerging middle-class, he figured as he looked out at them while The Blackfish docked.

He paid his fare and, alongside the other passengers, disembarked from the ship, belongings tucked inside the large canvas bag slung over his shoulder.

He was on his own.

Thomas wasted no time in asking the Harbor Master where he might find the names of those he sought out.

“Aye, I know them names,” said the Harbor Master. “Don’t know if on the island at the moment, but yer best chance would be brothel-house, that way and just off the main road.”

“Brothel-house?” Thomas asked, one eyebrow raised. That certainly was unexpected.

The man chuckled. “Clearly you’ve not spent much time in these parts. Brothel-houses are where everyone goes for everything,” he said matter-of-factly, as thought that explained everything. Thomas nodded slowly.

“Right then. Thank you.”

He set off in the general direction, confident that it would be difficult to miss a brothel-house. He hoped and prayed that the people he wanted were there. Even if they were not, however, Thomas had other names he could use.

There had been talk a few months ago, not long after he and James had settled down, that the new governor of New Providence was an Augustus Featherstone. James had practically guffawed at the news but had said that he’d been a pirate himself once and had always been sympathetic to the cause.

Surely then, he would be around.

Thomas found the building he was after easily enough. Though the wooden sign out front announced it as an inn, but the scant wardrobe of the ladies loitering out front and the men going inside announced its true purpose much louder.

Thomas took a moment to get his bearings. There was no place like this anywhere in Savannah, or even London for that matter. He’d seen tropical animals before, but the sight of an enormous, pale yellow snake slithering through a thick tree that was growing straight through the center of the building (he saw there was no roof there) made him look twice. A staircase led up to a balcony. Thomas’s eyes followed a grinning man and woman up the stairs and into one of the rooms. He blinked away the sheer amount of extra this place seemed to be and instead tried to locate a barmaid or an owner.

“You look lost, friend.”

Thomas turned and faced a young man dressed in brown breeches and coat and wearing a tricorne hat. He had bushy eyebrows and very soft, effeminate eyes. There was a mug in his hand and was leaning casually against a beam. There was something immediately off about his face, though Thomas couldn’t place it.

“I’m looking for either a Captain Jack Rackham or Anne Bonny,” said Thomas. “It’s very urgent.”

The boy—he couldn’t have been more than twenty—cocked his head to the side and looked Thomas up and down.

“You got business with them?” he asked.

There was something off about the young man’s voice too, Thomas thought.

“I hope so,” said Thomas.

The boy jerked his head to indicate the upstairs.

“Come on, then.”

Surprised, Thomas followed him up the stairs. The man still hadn’t introduced himself, and why would they head up there?

Thomas had made sure to bring the hunting knife he owned and a good pistol. The pistol was in his bag but the knife was on his belt. He fingered it lightly, just in case, though he sensed the young man did not mean him ill-will.

They arrived at a set of large double doors, set apart from all the single, smaller doors.

“Wait here,” said the boy.

Thomas nodded and the boy opened the doors enough to slide inside and then closed them again. A few moments later, just when Thomas began to feel overly anxious the doors re-opened and the boy nodded for him to enter.

He stepped inside to some kind of office. There was a desk and chair in the center of it, where a man sat, legs propped up on the desktop. He was lean and dressed rather colorfully. Beside him was a red-haired woman, throwing a coin pouch on top of others. They both looked up at him.

“Can I help you friend?” asked the man, his voice loud but amicable and somehow seemed to match his physique. “Mr. Read here tells me you’ve some business to discuss and you specifically asked for me?”

Jack pinched his thin moustache between a thumb and forefinger, setting his boots down on the floor.

Thomas stepped forward and Jack rose to shake his hand and introduce himself. Thomas extended the offer to whom he figured must be Anne Bonny but she only frowned at him, hands on her hips. Thomas winced a little but all right. His heart began pounding loudly in his chest as he dropped his canvas bag at his feet and cleared his throat.

“My name is Thomas McGraw, and I believe we have an acquaintance in common.”

He opened his bag and dug into it, pulling out a wad of money and placing it on the edge of the table.

“I’m here to offer you all I have, such as it is, in exchange for help I believe you are the only two qualified people left on this island to give me.”

*

“Are you fucking mad?” Anne asked him a short time later, blue eyes looking at Thomas as if she’d already decided he was.

Jack glanced at her and then back to Thomas.

“In this particular instance, I’m afraid I’m going to have to echo my partner’s concern: are you fucking insane? This is James Flint we are talking about here. You may not have known him as a pirate but I sure as hell did. He would never have risked his life for any one of us. He wanted me dead when he found out I took the Urca gold from him the first time, and I’ve already risked my neck for him at that damned island. I am not inclined to do so again.”

Thomas raised his palms, begging for understanding.

“I am aware that you and he were never friends. And I am aware, to a certain extent, that he was a formidable man to know. But everything he did, his reason for becoming a pirate in the first place…”

Thomas trailed off, wary. He had absolutely no idea how his relationship with James would be perceived by this man and this woman, if it would help his cause or hurt it. But he was also desperate. He caught the look the woman Anne was giving him and for the first time since he’d arrived it was something other than irritated boredom. Still, he tried another approach.

“Look, I know this amount is not much, but…”

Anne poked the stack of money with her finger. “This wouldn’t be enough to pay even half our crew for the trouble.”

Jack raised his hand in much the same way Thomas had earlier and gave her a look Thomas couldn’t quite decipher, but Anne quieted and rolled her eyes at him.

“What Anne means to say is that you must understand, even if I were to accept your offer, I cannot go anywhere unless I can sell the idea to my crew. And sailing to Curacao Island in hurricane season for the purposes of rescuing a man most of them would want to see dead is not something even the bloody pope could sell.”

Thomas took a deep breath and silently grappled with himself for calm. He had no choice but to make his final offer.

“I can offer you more,” he said slowly, looking pointedly at the money on display. “Much more than what is here. I can offer you a significant portion of the cache of gems buried on ‘that damned island’ as you call it,” he finished.

Jack’s eyes narrowed, lips ticking up in a crooked smile.

“How intriguing, coming from a man I’ve never met and who has never set foot on this island or any island for that matter…so he claims.”

Despite his words Thomas knew right then he had hooked him in.

“How the fuck are you gonna get that cache? It ain’t yours to offer,” said Anne in obvious disbelief.

“I am the only person alive capable of convincing Ja—of convincing Flint to allow you to have some of it,” said Thomas smoothly. “And since he is the only person who knows where it is...”

Jack let out a little laugh. He wagged a finger at Thomas.

“I like you sir, I do. But do tell me, who are you to him, that Flint would listen to you above all others, hmm? How can you possibly be so confident in his consent?”

Thomas sat back in his chair, one hand resting on the table top.

“I was husband to Miranda Barlow, before she and he came here,” he replied.

Jack and Anne both looked at each other, smirks fading from their faces.

“He was, as I’m sure you know,” Thomas continued evenly, “very grieved by her loss. He…blamed himself for what happened to her, on some level. He begged my forgiveness countless times.”

He paused, letting his eyes drop down and shaking his head the tiniest bit.

“So you see, James would do anything I asked of him,” he said, looking back up at them.

Silence. They were scrutinizing him more than ever now, he knew, and weighing their options.

“Even if that were so,” said Jack in a more quite tone as he leaned across the desk and peered at Thomas in his chair, “It doesn’t explain why you would go to such lengths to rescue the man.”

“He is still my friend. I’ll not have him die at the hands of some ex-communicated sonofabitch who betrayed him. Betrayed all of you, I might add.”

Anne was giving him that look again, scrutinizing but something else too. It made him unusually uncomfortable, as though she saw right through his half-truths. She shrugged and turned to Jack.

“Would be nice to have a go at Billy,” she suggested.

Jack blinked at her.

“I’m…I’m sorry but now you are fully in favor of this idea?”

Anne frowned and shrugged again.

“We got no bad blood with Flint, not really. An’ it’s the best chance you’re gonna get to take some of that treasure back.”

Silently Thomas screamed his approval of Anne Bonny. And it was clear that she had an influence over Jack and he over her. ‘Thick as thieves’ was how James had described them once. Jack huffed out a sigh and turned to where Mr. Read still stood by the door.

“What do you think?” Jack asked.

Mark looked from Jack to Thomas, cocking his head to the side again. His eyes were large and almost doe-like. He approached Thomas, arm crossed.

“You’re not planning all this for some scheme are you sir? Because you don’ look like a pirate.”

“I am no pirate, no,” said Thomas, meeting the young man’s gaze evenly.

Read shrugged and looked to Jack and Anne.

“Sounds like good profit to me.”

Thomas caught Anne giving Read a flash of teeth with her smile. Jack noted the smile and turned back to Thomas, extending his hand. Thomas rose.

“Well Mr. McGraw, you have got yourself a ship.”


	4. Chapter 4

He awoke with a gasp that turned into a sputtering cough. The tide was coming back in again, lapping at his waist as he sat against the rock wall. He’d fallen asleep some three hours earlier, he guessed by the water level. In another twenty or so minutes he’d be forced to stand again.

He’d dreamt of drowning. It had been a reoccurring dream while he was hunting the Urca, made worse after the dream had almost become reality that fateful day the Walrus had been nearly destroyed by the Spanish. But like even the worst dreams it had eventually stopped. But now James felt the same cold, sinking feeling in his chest upon waking as he had then; the feeling that fears of the deep gives to every man and never really lets go. He had no real fear of the depths of the ocean, but rather of himself, of a life without Thomas for a second time…

James shook his head and violently pushed the thought aside. No. He would get out of here. He would either kill or escape Billy and his men and somehow find a way back to Florida. He had to.

Yet as his eyes adjusted to the growing dark he felt something else cold and sinking weighed him down. How the fuck could he get out of here, unless he was released? Billy’s intentions seemed to be either mind games or torture or both.

He closed his eyes and tried to think but all he saw was Thomas and what it must have been like when he’d woken up that morning all alone, discovering that James had vanished into thin air.

“Fuck,” he whispered, tears welling in his eyes. “Thomas I’m sorry.”

“Thomas?”

The name repeated back to him from a startling source. Ben Gunn appeared around the bend, wading in the tide, torch in one hand and a pouch in the other. He gave James a meek smile as he approached.

“Sorry,” said Ben. “I was just checking on you. Brought you more food and some water.”

James slowly rose to his feet as the tide lapped ever higher around him. Once again Ben’s eyes were filled with a kindness, and once again James could not sense the slightest malice coming from the other man.

“Why?” he asked.

Ben blinked. “Why?”

“Why are you here, giving me food and water?”

Ben hesitated, then shrugged.

“I suppose after what was done to me I can’t bear to see prisoners mistreated, is all.”

It made sense. They had found Ben curled up in the corner of the Maroon Queen’s prison, the last surviving member of a merchant ship. He had been no pirate. And in some ways (James considered his kind eyes), he still wasn’t. But.

“And Billy doesn’t mind your treatment of me?” James pressed.

Something akin to a pain expression flashed over Ben’s face. He turned to look back to the mouth of the cave for a moment.

“I reckon if he knew he might not like it.”

James didn’t reply. Ben reached out and offered the pouch. James took it from him.

“Can I ask who Thomas is?” asked Ben.

“He is my sleeping companion, as Billy puts it,” he replied.

Ben nodded, turning to go but then pausing.

“Do you…care about him?”

James raised his brows. Ben was fishing for something, he was certain. Still, perhaps this was finally the time he could be truthful without dire repressions. Billy had not cared and something told James Ben would not either.

“Yes,” he said slowly. “Very much. What does it matter to you?”

“Nothing I was just…curious.”

Just then James heard the echoes of another body slosh down into the water, then make its way towards them. Billy appeared, eyes moving from Ben to James and back again.

“What are you doing here?” he asked Ben in a quiet tone. “There’s two guards for him. You needn’t have come.”

James watched and listened. Billy stood close to Ben, eyes focused on him.

Ben gave a nod. “I know. But I thought I heard a noise. Can’t be too cautious.”

Billy looked back at James and frowned, then turned back to Ben.

“Come on.”

Billy’s hand slipped to Ben’s arm, fingers touching delicately. As they rounded the bend James caught a glimpse of Ben smiling up at Billy.

Well then.

James wasn’t surprised. The crew used to poke fun at Billy for hardly ever visiting the brothels after a long voyage. He’d been spotted with a wench or two before, but James had quickly come to the conclusion it was just for show.

What was more significant, however, was that Billy was with Ben Gunn. Ben, who was soft and gentle, who, despite his words to the contrary, obviously _did_ care about his and Thomas’s relationship. For what specific reason James did not know, though he knew Ben must have been wondering about the two men who managed to live together in seeming peace with one another.

He could only guess at what life must be like living with Billy Bones, or rather, the Billy Bones as Ben now knew him, not the Billy Bones he’d once been.

James shivered. His stomach growled. If he was going to think he needed to eat first.

*

“…I just don’t understand why we need to do this,” Ben said, following behind Billy into the tent.

Billy sighed and turned to face him.

“I’ve told you why. Any man put in my position would do the same.”

“I know you hate him. You hated him when I met you. But he was thousands of miles away. And we were doing good before this. No one knows you in Kingston. You had honest work. _I_ had honest work again!”

Billy took Ben in his arms, fingers sifting up through his long light brown hair as he kissed him.

“I know you want honest work again,” he said, pulling back and looking into Ben’s eyes. “I do too. But Flint has to go first.”

“Then why not just kill him and be done with it?” asked Ben anxiously. He cupped Billy’s cheek, thumb buried in his wiry beard before it traced over his bottom lip tenderly.

Billy grasped his hand and kissed it.

“I don’t expect you to understand what it is to hate,” he said.

“No,” said Ben. “I don’t. But I do know what it is to love. And so does he.”

“Shhh.”

Billy moved an index finger to Ben’s lips, then kissed them again and started rucking up Ben’s shirt. Ben chuckled.

“Is that all you can think about when you’re not thinking about him?”

Ben raised his arms as Billy took off his shirt and began kissing him more fervently.

“Mmm yes,” said Billy.

*

He dreamt of guns and blood. He had no face for Billy Bones but somehow in the dream Thomas knew it him, pleading at the mercy of the pistol Thomas had pointed on him. There were others around him but he couldn’t see them. They stood in the middle of a field on Oglethorpe’s plantation, amid the muck of the tilled ground as though it had just rained. Then suddenly it was Oglethorpe himself standing before Thomas. Thomas cocked the pistol’s hammer.

A loud crack of thunder woke him. He was swaying in his hammock inside the officer’s room of Jack Rackham’s ship, The Colonial Dawn. There were no windows but it was evident they were in a storm. Thomas got up and splashed water over his face and ate some of the stew and hardtack provided him. The ship rocked violently to one side and he had to brace himself. There was another crack of thunder.

He took the rain slick hanging by the door and put it on. As soon as he opened the door he was greeted by nature’s violence; blowing wind and rain. The entire ship was soaked, both its wood and its men. The ship rocked to the larboard side and he braced himself, but this time a hand helped him stay upright. It was Anne Bonny, peering at him through the brim of her hat, pulled low as the wind and rain pounded down on them.

“You all right?” She had to yell it over the storm.

Thomas nodded. Anne jerked her head for him to follow her up the stairs to the quarter deck. Jack’s voice carried over the din, yelling out orders. Thomas saw nearly all the sail had been furled. He made it to the railing beside Jack.

“Fine whether we’re having isn’t it, Mr. McGraw?” he asked.

“Are we in a hurricane?” Thomas asked.

“This? No,” said Jack casually. “A bitch of a storm, to be sure, but not a true tempest.”

“Jesus,” Thomas muttered.

Jack’s lips curved up.

“Yes,” he said, running a hand over his face and blinking through the blinding rain.

“You understand now why we don’t generally make long trips during this time of the year.”

Thomas watched as the crew below them scurried to and fro, working hard to maintain the rigging and lines. Directly below them there were now two men at the helm, straining to keep them on course.

“Wind is moving fast,” said Anne on his other side. “It won’t last much longer.”

“If anything I believe we’re being pushed ahead of schedule,” said Jack.

“That’s good news,” said Thomas.

*

Thomas went back to his quarters and dried off, happy they were ahead of schedule but also more anxious. He had no idea what to expect when they arrive at Curacao Island. Most of all he feared an ambush, that Billy was expecting him. They needed the element of surprise to be on their side, not Billy’s.

Just then there was a rapping at the door.

“Come in.”

It was Anne. As she opened the door Thomas saw that the winds and rain had greatly lessened.

“We’re out of it, then?” he asked.

She nodded, removing her hat and shaking water off it. Her gorgeous red hair was soaked but she’d simply pinned some of it back with a tie. Despite her efforts to the contrary her face was quite feminine and beautiful to him.

“You are quite remarkable,” Thomas said out loud without really meaning to.

Anne guffawed.

“And unable to take a compliment as well,” added Thomas. “Reminds me of someone.”

“Who’s that?”

“Ja—Captain Flint. A long time ago he was the same. He thought every judgment of him was somehow critical.”

Thomas chuckled at the memories the statement brought to mind.

Anne leaned against the wall, thumbs tucked into her belt.

“You want to call him James. Might was well call him what you call him,” she said.

There was something about her tone that reminded Thomas of the looks she’d given him back in Nassau.

“You’re curious,” he said after a pause. “About what, exactly?”

Anne looked at him with a hard frown which Thomas had come to learn meant she was thinking, not that she disapproved.

“Said your name was McGraw,” she continued. “I know that name. I asked Jack about it. Said he recognized it but couldn’t remember how. Then it came to me. Something I overheard Eleanor Guthrie sayin’ to Mr. Scott a long time ago. Caught my attention so I listened. Turns out Flint was a navy man, she said. He’d done something to piss off England so they kicked ‘em out. Didn’t say much more except Flint’s real name. It was McGraw.”

Thomas’s breath caught momentarily, but then he inhaled deeply and released his breath. He was in no immediate danger here. He decided to simply acknowledge Anne’s findings.

“Yes,” he said simply.

There still must have been something about his manor that was uneasy though, because she poured him a glass from a decanter and offered it to him.

“Thank you.”

He tasted it. Not rum but still something dark-brandy, he thought.

“So why the hell would you take his name?” Anne continued. “Don’t look like his brother at all. Doesn’t make no sense that I can figure. Just like it don’t make no sense that you’d risk this much to save him. Unless…”

She frowned again and looked away.

“Go ahead,” said Thomas. “Ask me whatever it is you want to ask me. I won’t be angry.”

He ignored the pounding of his heart and the quickening of his pulse. What he had gone through, what _they_ had gone through; it did not allow for easy trust towards anyone. But here he was in the bowels of a great ship deep in the ocean, with the reach of civilization diminished. And among pirates. People who, James had told him with an ironic smile, were much more in tune with progressive thinking than even they realized half the time.

Anne was still frowning at him. There was a wariness in her eyes, perhaps even confusion.

“If you are worried about any sort of scheming or danger from me, I can assure you I’m interested in neither,” he offered. He poured her a glass of brandy and scooted it across the swaying desk with his fingertips as reassurance.

He was a bit surprised with how deftly she grabbed it and threw it back, lips pinching together as the liquid no doubt burned down her.

“You can tell me to fuck off an’ I won’t say another word about it,” she said, sounding as though she were more angry than contrite. 

So. His heart thumped loudly in his chest. He caught the discreet movement of her hand to her belt. He wondered momentarily if she slept with the short swords on. He could easily picture it.

“You and Flint. McGraw. Whatever the fuck,” she continued. “You love him?”

Thomas pulled his eyes up to hers. Her fingers flexed around what he assumed was the hilt to her sword. Smart woman. And fucking brave.

“Yes,” answered Thomas. He curled his fingers around his empty glass. “And he loves me.”

It seemed a minute passed where nothing moved or made a sound, save for the creaking of the ship. Then Anne’s hand slowly emerged from inside her coat and took hold of the decanter. She poured his glass full.

“Thank you.”

He looked up at her but Anne’s eyes were across the room.

“Mark Read,” she said. “That ain’t his real name either. It’s Mary.”

At that Thomas looked up sharply. In the same instant Anne turned and walked away, heading for the cabin door. She paused before opening it, head turned just barely towards him.

“Me an’ Jack. We’ll do what we can for you and for him.”

Thomas nodded, swallowing. “Thank you.”

When the door closed behind her Thomas let out a massive sigh, running a hand through his hair. A small smile formed on his lips as Anne’s words spun around in his head. _Mary_ Read then. Another woman pirate passing as a man. And Anne’s lover. That had been the implication of her words, of her curiosity about he and James. The pieces fell neatly into place. What a wonder Nassau and places like it must have been at their height. He felt a bright spark light up in him at that thought. If only his plan had succeeded. He could have had people like Jack and Anne and Mary and many more earning decent wages, free to live their lives however they saw fit and to influence new ways of thinking. To show the rest of the world that not everything was in black and white, good and evil…

Thomas blinked and shook his head as a pang of guilt dimmed that spark. James was out there, being held captive under God knows what conditions. He had no right to daydream like that. He shut his eyes as fresh tears pricked them. Not all men would have fit into that fantasy world of his. Not men like Billy Bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a quick note about references to Savannah and/or Florida in this fic, more of a reminder really, that today's Georgia was considered northern Florida territory back then. And again if anyone catches anything amiss let me know 'cause this hasn't been beta'd. I hope everyone enjoyed Billy and Ben Thomas and Anne. <333 And to be clear Anne wasn't planning on attacking Thomas outright...she was worried that asking him if he was gay would anger him (implied homophobia). THEY ARE ALL SO GAY OMG. AND NOW THEY KNOW IT xD.


	5. Chapter 5

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter is full of your daily dose of angst and more interaction between Billy and Flint. Billy really is just so lost and the more I wrote him in this, the more I saw him as taking an emotional and destructive path that was similar to Flint's, so I probably started incorporating that into this at some point, whether consciously or not.

“Rise and shine,” said Billy. James’s arms fell like dead weights as he was unlocked from his shackles. He was guided through the cave, following behind Billy. The waters of low tide splashed around their ankles. The sunlight gradually grew stronger until he was blinking fiercely against it when they exited the mouth of the cave. The unrelenting Caribbean sun touched him and filled him much welcomed warmth despite hurting his eyes. Everything was pale yellow and white. The hand clenching his arm suddenly dropped away. He was standing on his own. He focused on the ground first. Wet sand, but not covered by water. The entrance to the cave was on a sandbar, exposed at low tide. It was a wide stretch, big enough to support the dozen or so men that stood on it, all looking at him and Billy. Billy, who was stripping off his shirt and taking off his belt. He flexed his arms this way and that, rolling his shoulders.

Despite what James knew the other man gone through, it was clear Billy had kept using his body. His muscles were still enormous, bulging and straining to jump out of his skin. There were new marks however; scars that James knew had not been there when Billy was the bosun of The Walrus.

Yet none of his impressive physicality could distract James from the distinctive limp Billy now had. He favored his left leg, the one James had driven a knife through, and was trying hard not to let it show.

Ben Gunn collected Billy’s shirt and belt, draping them on a rock. James met his eyes, struck by how sad the other man looked in that moment. The look faded as Billy spoke, loud enough for all the surrounding men to hear. James now saw they were anticipating something.

“Take off your shirt,” Billy said to him.

“What for?”

“We’re going to brawl. You and me.”

Low rumble of cheers from the crowd.

If he had felt better James would have scoffed at him. As it was the muscles in all four of his limbs were stiff and sore. He pushed his shoulder blades back and heard his back snap in three places. Billy smiled coldly.

“You’re not that bad off,” he scoffed. “You’ve been given food and water, nowhere near how we were when we were becalmed. Even then you were an asshole. A starving one.”

Snickers and sneers from the gathered men. Ben Gunn’s face remained blank, arms crossed tightly to his chest.

“You wish to fight me? Here? Now?” James asked with obvious doubt and scorn.

Billy spread his arms wide. James could practically see the adrenaline start to build in him.

“Why not?” asked Billy. “Don’t tell me you never wondered about it. I was the strongest man on our crew for years. We’ve pointed guns at each other, had that little scuffle on Underhill’s plantation. But never did we truly fight on even ground, man to man.”

“I have no desire for this, Billy,” said James. Yet he felt the adrenaline pick up in his own body. Billy was going to force this, that much was clear. James quickly took him in again and for the first time since he’d known the other man James felt the sting of uncertainty, of intimidation. They were both older and less flexible than they had been, but Billy was still ten years his junior and more powerfully built. James had overcome odds such as that before, but it was the other thing he saw in Billy that bothered him most; the rage, the anger that was fueling all of this. He knew it well. It made men feel as though they were invincible. That by itself was dangerous enough.

His own rage had dimmed significantly the moment he’d seen Thomas Hamilton standing in a sugar cane field.

There was no more time to think. Billy was bouncing from foot to foot, one hand curled into a fist. James spread his legs and hunkered down, waiting. Billy came at him, swinging his fist predictably. It was a good swing and James moved slower than he liked out of its way. His body screamed in protest at him. He’d been stuck to that damned rock wall too long.

Billy came at him again. James moved faster but then Billy’s other fist landed hard in his ribs. Cheers from the crowd. Fuck. James shook his head, trying to clear it. He began circling Billy, willing his mind and body to remember how this was done.

Billy faked him out twice, coming at him then retreating. James felt the sweat gather on his brow. His legs screamed at him but he ignored them. His eyes darted to Billy’s left thigh and back up again. He watched Billy’s chest and his feet so that when Billy angled sharply to the left and towards him James dodged and landed a hard blow to Billy’s back, punching a grunt from him. When Billy whirled back around his eyes were on fire. He’d angered the bull.

They circled again. This time when Billy moved in it was aggressively, closing the circle and stepping too close so that James automatically lashed out with his right fist (missed), then his left. He caught Billy’s jaw but Billy wasn’t fazed. His left boot came up and hooked the back of James’s knee, tugging just hard enough so that James’s leg gave out. He caught himself on his knee just as Billy’s fist slammed squarely into his cheek, knocking him down.

Something in him snapped. Billy came down on top of him but James grappled for the waistline of his pants for purchase, using all his might to heave Billy onto his back. His hand wrapped around Billy’s throat and squeezed. Flashes came to him of their scuffle on the mainmast of Roger’s ship so many months ago. _Ah._

James removed a hand from his throat and blindly slammed a fist down over Billy’s left thigh. Billy _screamed_. James struggled to climb on top of him and pin him down but Billy was quicker, rolling getting a single punch to James’s gut. It was a weak punch but it hit right below his sternum, knocking the wind out of him. Still he forced himself to roll away. He expected Billy to overpower him but as he came out of the roll he saw Billy had engaged the same move and now they were feet apart.

“Enough,” said Ben, stepping forward. James flashed a look to him, but Ben’s gaze was entirely on Billy, his concern obvious. Billy’s eyes darted to him and for a moment James thought he saw them soften.

“No!” Billy snapped. “We’re not done.”

The crowd cheered louder and Billy gave him another sneer, licking his busted lip.

James steadied himself on his legs. He needed to be the one to make the next attack or Billy would find an opening, a way to perhaps even cripple him. He’d seen Billy do it once before, when they had raided one of the English settlements near St. Kitts. His pistol had been knocked out of his hands and he’d slammed his elbow down over another man’s leg, snapping bone. It occurred to James he could make the same move.

They circled again. This time James pushed them closer together, watching Billy’s body intently. Then he dove in, hunkered over and grabbed Billy by the waist, shoving him backwards. Billy’s fists came down over and over on his back, then a knee to his midsection. That was enough to weaken his grip and Billy shoved him back. James didn’t wait. He swung at Billy’s face, hitting him square in the jaw, then hit him again with his other fist, and again. Blood flew from Billy’s mouth but he stood. James hit him again, seeing him weakening. But Billy surprised him, ducking his next strike and catching his fist in his hand.

“Billy!”

Both of them turned their heads just enough to see that Ben had approached behind Billy. He stood casually, looking directly at neither of them. His voice was low but earnest.

“That’s enough for now,” he said.

James watched as the conflict worked itself across Billy’s face. He shoved James’s fist back with a grunt and dropped his stance. James blinked, amazed. Ben shoulder’s seemed to sag in relief.

“For now,” said Billy echoed. “Tide’s coming back in anyway.”

Then he perked up and spread his arms as he addressed his men.

“And whence it leaves again, who’s going to be ready for round two?” he shouted.

Another series of rowdy cheers swept through them. Billy’s face darkened when he looked back at James. Then he nodded at the two guards who had been stationed at the mouth of the cave.

“Take him back.”

*

After he’d been chained back up to the wall and the two guards left, Ben appeared around the bend, carrying a covered basket. He positioned it on flat surface of rock next to James and uncovered it. There was a large piece of pork. James’s stomach suddenly rumbled.

“Fresh from a kill this morning,” said Ben. “There’s wild hog all over these islands.”

Then he unscrewed a flask on his belt and poured its contents over the cloth from the basket and lifted it towards James’s head. James reared back.

“Just alcohol, for your wounds,” said Ben.

Wounds? James raised his hand to brow. It came back red. Oh.

He let Ben tend to him, wincing at the sting of the alcohol. He tore off a piece of the pork and chewed, mind full of thoughts about the man caring for him so unnecessarily. This might be it, he realized. This might be his way out of this.

“You did not accompany Billy to the Americas, did you?” he asked.

Ben shook his head. “I kept an eye on things here while he was gone.”

“Then you missed it,” said James. “Where I live. It’s a log cabin, a few miles south of Savannah. We found it abandoned, Thomas and I.”

Ben’s hand stilled momentarily. He poured more alcohol over the cloth.

“We fixed it up, made it livable again. And there’s a peach orchard. We decided to fix that up too. Now we grow and sell them in town.”

He paused, letting the silence fill the space between them and his words sink in.

“Surely you cannot support yourselves on peaches?” asked Ben.

James let the smile slip over his lips. “No. We attained jobs in town. He works in a print shop and bookstore, and I’m a cabinetmaker.”

Ben stopped tending to him and blinked. “And your relationship with the townsfolk. Do they know?”

James shook his head. “Of course not. To them we are simply cousins, both of us widowed and down on our luck, looking for a place to start over.”

“A half truth, of sorts,” said Ben. “But surely the two of you living together, without taking wives, will eventually raise eyebrows, no?”

“Possibly, yes. But we will tackle that problem if and when it arises. Together. It can be like that for you and him as well.”

James caught Ben’s gaze, eyes intent.

“You care a great deal for him,” he continued when Ben did not look away. “And despite how he is, I see that he cares for you in return. You have influence over him.”

Ben sighed and looked away. He took a drink from his flask.

“Not like that. I wish I did. Things were well between us when we first found this place. I thought I had made him…better somehow, that I could temper his anger at all the world. And that’s what it is, you know.”

Ben sighed heavily and looked around the cave, closing his eyes.

“He’s angry at all the world, and at you most of all. I’ve seen the destruction wrought by men’s rage, but always it burns hotly and quickly, extinguishing itself. Most men have no endurance for a rage like that to last, but Billy…I confess I’ve never seen anything like it.”

“It’s exhausting,” said James. “More exhausting than you can know. And the longer it lasts, the more it will consume him, until he does not recognize himself. It happened to me. But I am telling you there is a way back from it.”

“How?” Ben asked, tone bordering on desperate. “How can a rage like that ever be quelled? When he has quieter moments, moments with me, he is a different man. He speaks of old times with his brothers, of how much he enjoyed his time on your old ship even. But then it’s as if a daemon possesses him and everything becomes about revenge.”

“There _is_ a way back for him,” James pressed on, voice low. “You can be his way back, Ben. Just as Thomas was mine.”

Ben looked at him, full of desperate hope. “I look at you now, sir, and I want to believe you. You were a broken man when I first laid eyes on you. I thought I had watched you rise from the ashes, as it were, when you took command again and brought the Maroon Queen’s people together with ours, when you successfully waged the first battle of the war. But I came to see that you were still broken then. It was with this rage you speak of, wasn’t it? You know it well, sir.”

James nodded, feeling his throat tighten. “Yes.”

“But I fear Billy will not give this up until you are dead.”

“It won’t end with my death,” James said quickly. “It will only grow. And he will run out into the night to find another face, and another, and another, until revenge has become his life. Unless you can care enough to show him there is more to life again. Make him remember it.”

“How?”

“Love him.”

Ben blinked. He opened his mouth but shut it again. His shock-blue eyes turned moist.

“I—”

“Gunn!”

Ben startled at the deep echoing bark of his name from one of the guards. The splash of boots and then the man appeared standing at the curve of the bend.

“Bones wants you back at camp,” he gruffed out.

Ben nodded. The guard left. Ben looked at James.

“I’ll do what I can,” he said, turning to leave.

_“Ben.”_

Ben stopped and turned back around.

“You’re a good man,” said James. “Do not let him drag you down with him.”

He managed to keep the tremor out of his voice, but when Ben had left James let the tears slide down his face anew. Thomas, he thought, would be proud of him for trying. If he never saw Thomas again at least he knew he had tried, that he _cared._

James wiped at his tears. And he did care about Gunn, he realized with a jolt. He had not when they had first met, in the queen’s cage. Ben had been just another body, another new crew member to him like so many before. But like him the soft-spoken Irishman had never thought to become a pirate. He’d been desperate; choosing a life of crime over what was then certain death at the queen’s hands. James hoped it would not always be so for him.

And like him, Ben was in love with another man.

He hoped that Billy was still capable of the love that Ben so obviously felt for him.

He loathed the sting of sudden sympathy he felt for Billy. They were too similar. Billy was falling down the same deep hole he had so many years ago, and regardless of his betrayal, James remembered the man he had been. He hated the monster within Billy, but he could no more hate the actual man than he could hate Lieutenant McGraw. Both loyal to their cause. Dedicated.

And filled with a darkness always just below the surface.

The tide was coming in. The cave echoed with its splashes as the water surged up another few inches around him, the now familiar cold creeping up from his feet. An unexpected coughing fit overtook him and he realized his lungs had begun to feel congested. How bloody long did Billy intend to keep him here? Until he managed to kill him in a brawl? Until mother nature helped him along in that task, slowly draining his energy and health? And what was Thomas doing this very moment? Wringing his hands in despair? Looking for him all along Northern Florida?

Perhaps he’d given up, or would soon. Perhaps all they had built between them was close to crumbling for Thomas after all he’d suffered. Was he strong enough to live without James?

James sneered at the thought, hating himself. He might have been built stronger but it had always been Thomas who was possessed of more inner strength and will. Yet they had spoken about this, about how neither of them could bear to be forcefully separated from the other a second time. Not like this.

A furious, muffled cry rumbled up into his throat. He jerked angrily at the chains holding him, hurting himself and not caring. Thomas needed him. He needed Thomas. There was nothing else.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so here's the big Bengunn chapter. I...really love them? Also I couldn't help but to draw more similarities between Flint and Billy. And the Unlikely Trio that is Jack, Anne, and Thomas finally makes it to the island. :))) Anyways enjoy. As always kudos and comments are craved! <3

Thomas awoke the next morning to discover a large piece of land within sight out on deck. His pulse quickened. Jack was at the helm, listening to two men speaking to him and gesturing at the horizon. Thomas followed their gestures and saw that there was a storm—or more accurately a developing storm—far off their starboard quarter. When the men left Thomas came up to him.

“Is that…”

“Indeed it is,” said Jack. He handed Thomas a spyglass, gesturing for the helmsman to take back over as he joined Thomas at the railing. Eagerly Thomas peered through the glass.

“The east side of Curacao Island. Should be within anchoring distance before well before nightfall.”

“We ought to circle it first, shouldn’t we?” came Mark—Mary’s—voice from behind them. She and Anne joined them.

Jack smoothed over his moustache with an index finger and a thumb, thinking.

“Yes, but we’ll need to keep our distance in order to maintain the element of surprise. If they think we are anything but a passing ship it will raise the alarm.”

“How many?” Thomas asked.

“Beg pardon?”

“How many men do you think are there?”

Jack wiggled his nose and cocked his head this way and that.

“Impossible to say, but considering the fact that Billy had nothing but enemies when last I saw him I’d say not a great many.”

“How long to survey the island before we can go ashore?”

Jack looked at him directly and Thomas realized with a small flush to his cheeks that he sounded impatient.

“It depends on what we see when we get there. If it is as you believe and Billy is anticipating your arrival, whatever men he does have will be on the lookout.”

“We ought to wait until dusk to circle the island,” said Anne.

Thomas turned to her.

“Dusk?” he repeated, unable to keep the disappointment from his tone.

Something in the redhead’s eyes softened at him.

“We do it at dusk, then go ashore after nightfall. It’s the only way.”

Jack nodded in agreement. “She’s right. Once we find a hidden place to make safe anchor and to go ashore, we’ll use the cover of darkness to get a better look at whatever the hell it is going on there.”

Reluctantly Thomas agreed. Oh, how agonizing this day would be.

“One more thing,” said Jack, raising an index finger. Thomas bit down on his smile. This man had the most…distinct mannerisms, especially for a pirate.

“If we do find Flint and he tries to kill me or maim me or mine in any way, I’m holding you fully accountable,” said Jack. Then, as he passed by Thomas he whispered in his ear, “That treasure had better be on that island at the end of all this.”

There was a drastic change in his tone that sent red flags up in Thomas’s mind and he met Jack’s gaze. For all his pomp and circumstance Thomas suddenly remembered that this man was a murderer. He had no doubt killed for things such as this and Thomas was certain he would have no qualms about killing him.

That was fine, because if it came down to Jack Rackham standing between him and James presently, or later if the cache was not retrieved, Thomas would have little trouble killing _him._ He did not wish it because he’d grown fond of Captain Rackham, but he would do what he must.

“That storm,” Thomas said, nodding towards the darkening sky. “Is that a concern?”

Jack flashed him a mirthless smile, acknowledging the change in subject.

“Not yet, no. But we’ll need to keep an eye out.”

*

He dozed off and on after the noon bell. Always he snapped awake with James in his heart and mind. The closer they got to the island the more anxious he became. He felt guilt cling to him for thinking about anything that was not James, yet he feard he’d drive himself to madness when he did _not_ think of him.

Thomas wondered as he waited for the sun to begin its descent if he should brush up on his swordplay. He and James had practiced several times out amongst the peach trees on James’s insistence. Deciding it would help to remain busy Thomas unsheathed his sword and set to work, using his hanging rain slick as an enemy. He wondered if James was under an open sky or locked up somewhere dark. He practiced harder.

*

Ben rutted on top of him in their tent, feeling Billy shudder as he came inside him. Afterwards they fell into a peaceful silence. Billy was always quiet after sex. It was one of the few times Ben felt that he was truly at ease—with himself as well as the chaotic world just outside.

Billy looked longingly at him now, rubbing a hand over Ben’s bare chest. Ben licked his lips, making several abortive attempts at speaking before finally doing so.

“I know how you feel about him,” he began, rubbing his fingers through the thick grizzle of Billy’s beard. “But I think you should let him go.”

Billy gently caught his fingers and looked at him, confused.

“He has not harmed you except in self defense, as I understand it,” Ben continued before Billy could speak. “The man has every reason to want to see you dead, and yet I don’t think he wishes it.”

Billy sat up with a sigh, faced away from him. Ben sat up behind him, placing a hand on his shoulder.

“Please don’t be angry,” said Ben. “I just want you to be happy, that’s all. Torturing this man…it isn’t right Billy.”

Billy let out a long suffering sigh. His fingers came to clasp at the ones resting on his shoulder. He remained silent. Ben tried again.

“Flint described to me where he and Thomas live. You saw it with your own eyes. We could live like that. I know it would not be easy— ”

“It’s shameful. Two men,” said Billy. “Have I not enough shame as it is?”

Ben tugged on his shoulder until Billy turned around and looked at him. His fierce blue eyes were heavy with sorrow.

“The only thing shameful I see,” said Ben softly, “is us pretending to love each other inside the space of a tent on a deserted island.”

Billy looked down, squeezing his eyes shut. His shoulders sagged.

“Ben please,” he said in a hoarse voice.

Ben curled a finger under Billy’s chin and tipped it back.

“William Manderly, look at me.”

Billy’s eyes were filled with unshed tears. He held them in with all his might, quickly wiping at them should they slide down his cheek. He refused to weep. Ben kissed him once on the lips.

“You _saw_ how they lived,” he repeated in earnest. 

Billy dragged his eyes up to look at him. Ben saw the war within him. He kissed Billy again.

“Do you really want to deprive Flint of his lover?” he asked in a whisper.

“You know this isn’t about that,” replied Billy.

“Does it even matter what any of this is about anymore?” countered Ben. “You can let go.”

But Billy shook his head, wiping away his tears.

“I’d rather not talk about it anymore. Just lie here with me, will you? I know the camp needs tending to, but just for a bit longer?”

Of course he consented, taking Billy in his arms again. What else could he do?

*

Curacao Island had only one decent entry for a large ship, they discovered as the completed their wide swath around it.

What was assumed to be Billy Bones’s ship—a brigantine, in decent condition—was nestled (strategically so) between two close rocky outcroppings, her bow pointed out to sea, and three fire barrels dropped protectively at her stern, blocking entry from behind.

They steered clear of it, widening their arc so as to avoid detection by anyone who might be in the crow’s nest as they passed. There were two deep channels that cut into the island, both wide enough for a ship of The Colonial Dawn’s size to fit through. That also meant the other ends of the channels were probably guarded if Billy “had any brains left” as Jack had put it , referring to the beating he’d received—it was reported—by the slaves he’d turned on.

They decided to drop anchor just behind the largest of the rocky outcroppings slightly north of where they figured Billy’s camp was. There were two smoke stacks rising from the same area towards the west side of the island, both a good distance away from their anchor point. The trip ashore took some time too, and there was scarcely enough of a beach for two long boats to pull up on. But it was enough. Thomas, along with Jack and a crew of a dozen, crept onshore sometime after total nightfall. They huddled together on the small scrap of beach as Jack spoke.

“We must do this with the utmost skill and silence if we are to be successful,” he said. “Once we’ve located the encampment we must locate any and all scouts and guards, along with all other men. Most of them should be turning in for the night or already asleep, so they won’t be moving. Strike one for us. The most difficult part will be taking out the scouts and guards and maintaining anonymity. We will split up in pairs or groups of three…”

“Wait,” said Thomas. “If I come across anyone I will subdue them, but my priority is finding Flint.”

“And once you find him you will have to free him. Better that we eliminate all threats first…”

Thomas shook his head. “You have enough men to do as you say and accomplish all that. I’m going to find Flint. Besides, if we lose our secrecy and there’s a scuffle, I need to know where he is beforehand. They could want to use him as leverage against us.”

_And because I’ll go fucking mad if I do not see him soon._

Thomas left that thought in his head.

Jack huffed out a sigh at all of this. Beside him Anne took off her hat and coat and left them in a boat. She nodded at Thomas.

“I’ll go with you.”

Jack shot her a look, though Thomas was fairly certain the look she gave him left no room for argument. Mary Read also took off her hat and coat.

“Be careful,” she said to Anne with affection. Then Anne leaned in and kissed “him.” Thomas blinked, looking around at the gathered men but they didn’t so much as bat an eyelash. Neither did Jack. Surely Jack was aware that Mark was a woman?

Anne turned to him next. Jack cupped the side of her cheek and there it was, all the things Thomas would have expected between the two of them but had not yet been noticeable to the naked eye. There was a great love between them, spoken in total silence as Jack kissed her and she him. Something warm sparked inside him again at the three of them. He thought fondly of he and James and Miranda together. Oh, how wonderful it could have been to share their feelings as openly as this.

They finished their planning and broke into pairs and groups. Everyone removed all cumbersome materials—clanky belts and large coats and wide hats—and they all made their way westward, wielding pistols and swords.

*

It was close to dusk when they unchained him and pulled him back outside the cave. The tiding was still coming in, just shy of his waist as he stood on the sandbar. Billy and Ben, however, were nowhere to be seen.

“Bones has decided to let us have a little fun with you ourselves,” said one of the guards, leering at him. “Water will make it even more interesting.’”

There were three of them, all stripped down to their shirts and breeches and all carrying the same gleam in their eyes for a fight. James stood passively until one of them attacked. He fought back, though the water made their movement slow and sluggish. It only took a few minutes before he saw what they were really about. They took turns shoving him underwater, then ganged up on him and held him there with rough hands. Then they let him go, gasping and sputtering for air. Then another one would move in to throw a punch until he was too distracted and the process repeated itself.

He was beyond fatigued and miserable, but also filled with rage when he finally managed to jerk off the dagger strapped to one of the men’s calves as he was held underwater. He forced his body to stop reacting to drowning long enough to lift his arm and plunge the dagger into the man’s stomach. Red filled the water as the man’s grip on him suddenly dropped. James flung his head back into the air and gasped for it. The other two men saw what he’d done and cursed him. James held the dagger defensively. One of them waded as quickly as he could to the boat floating nearby and pulled out two swords, tossing one to the other man. The moved in on him.

“Drop it, or we’ll cut you deep and say it was an accident,” one of them gruffed out.

James’s lips twitched. He was ready to attack. He calculated his moves and knew that he could still best both of them—if he was at full strength and could escape afterward. Since he could do neither, he dropped the dagger.

 

In the hours that followed he considered it, bouncing the idea back and forth in his head like a game of shuttlecock. It had been so easy then, after The Walrus was nearly destroyed in his quest for the Urca gold and the bodies of crewmen floated around him that bright sunny day nearly three years ago now. So easy, to stop fighting and to just slip beneath the surface of the ocean, to let Davy Jones claim him and drag him down. All because he’d failed Thomas.

He knew he had not failed Thomas this time. This was in no way his fault. But if he was destined to die here anyway he’d rather it be on his own terms and not Billy’s.

James let himself fall into a sitting position below the water. It was up to his neck now. If he just stopped resisting it would be like it had been that day. Only this time there would be no one there to rescue him.

As the cold saltwater enveloped him a vivid scene flashed in his mind. Thomas, standing over his dead body on the shore, weeping and screaming at him, angry at his death and somehow knowing he’d given up.

James pushed himself back on his feet with a shudder and a cry, silently begging Thomas’s forgiveness.


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thomas and Anne=stealth mode assassins and the rescue is at hand! :) I could have finished with this chapter but I wanted the ending to be its own chapter. In the meantime enjoy more suspense, drama and gay pirates.

Under Anne’s guidance Thomas was surprised at his own stealth as they made their way out of the forest and into heavy clumps of bushes and sapling trees, ever closer to the camp.

He imitated Anne’s footwork, learning quickly how to step lightly and avoid things like twigs. One eye on the ground in front of him at all times and one eye ahead of him, looking for movement.

They crouched low, using only the light from the moon and stars to guide them. Once Anne came to a dead stop inches in front of him, spine ramrod straight. He bumped into her lightly but she did not move. Instead she raised her hand and pointed to the ground in front of them. Thomas bent around her to see. There was a snake there, stretched out and slithering slowly. Thomas swallowed. The serpent was at least four feet long. Anne motioned for him to be still. She waited until the snake had slithered away from them, then her boot jerked out and stamped over its head. Its body flopped violently until her sword came down, cutting through its head. She wiped the blade off on her pants leg.

“Careful,” she said.

Thomas thought for a moment, then smirked as he said, “If only you were a man.”

Anne paused briefly in front of him, then looked over her shoulder and said, “If only you were a woman,” completely taking him by surprise.

He couldn’t see her face but he could imagine the smirk on it just fine. Grinning, he came to walk by her side. They crouched low as the smell of smoke and some kind of meat hit his nostrils. They had only the cover of the bushes now, but luckily they were thick and large enough to conceal them if they stayed low to the ground.

It was tedious but they crept forward through them, until they were close enough to get a good look at the camp. He recognized the stretch of beach less than a hundred yards past the camp as the main access point he’d seen on The Colonial Dawn. It allowed for an unimpeded view of the ocean.

“There’s the two fires we saw,” whispered Anne. “One out now, the other one almost. I see three men, asleep by the first one. Two by the second.”

“And there,” whispered Thomas, pointing. “In that tree. A lookout with a rifle.”

Anne looked where he pointed and nodded. It was a half-dead tree with a wide fork, five or perhaps six feet off the ground, but it sat on the top of a long sloping hill and gave its inhabitant a wide viewing range. The man was relaxed but awake as far as Thomas could make out.

“There,” said Anne urgently. Thomas turned back towards the camp. At first he saw only one additional man emerge from behind the tents, pistol lowered at his side and walking casually. Then he spotted another at the opposite end and finally a third emerged from the beach. They were all walking in a set pattern, watching.

“Any sign of James?” he whispered.

They looked over everything again. Thomas nodded towards the largest of three tents.

“Billy Bones’s tent, do you think?”

“Probably. Flanked by the other two tents. Woods to his back and the campfires in front of ‘im. Now we wait for the others.”

Thomas sighed, trying to stay patient. Surely James must be in one of those other tents. A few moments later he and Anne turned their heads to a low whistle. Two pairs of their men were moving in from opposite directions, Jack among them. They all met. Anne discussed the layout with them as well. They agreed they needed to take out the guard in the tree first. Anne and Mary did the honors, creeping up almost to the base of the tree and the edge of the bushes. Then Anne stood up and came out, short sword reaching up to slice through the man’s ankles at the fork in the tree. He gave a strangled cry and fell out. Before he could cry out again Mary cut him through.

“I’m going up there,” Thomas whispered to Jack, indicating the tree. “I can get a better look,” he added when Jack seemed ready to protest.

“Be quick about it,” Jack replied.

Thomas waited until the three guards in the camp were all looking away before hoisting himself up in the tree’s fork. He could immediately see much more of the beach below to his right. In fact, that’s when he spotted it—a distinctive grouping of rocks that formed a cave not too far out from the beach. There was a long boat anchored there and two men in the boat. What was this?

He twisted and looked down, hand held out.

“A spyglass. Quick!”

Jack pulled a small one out of his belt and handed it to him.

“What? What do you see?” he hissed up at him.

Thomas peered through it and his heart skipped a beat with sudden hope. The men in the boat were idling, playing some card game. But they kept glancing up at the mouth of what was most certainly a cave. He could make out their weapons. Guards. Guarding something inside.

He jumped down and handed the spyglass to Jack.

“There’s a cave just offshore with two men guarding its entrance. They must be keeping him in there. I’m going—”

Thomas had started off when Jack’s hand gripped his arm, holding him in place.

“Wait one bloody minute,” he hissed. “There are still far too many eyes down there to make the trip safely. I need you to help us eliminate them before we rescue your beloved Flint.”

“I can take care of the guards by the cave,” Thomas quickly said. “It’s away from the camp. As long as you eliminate that one there, on the beach, I should have no problem.”

“By yourself?” Jack countered, eyes narrowing. “Forgive me, Mr. McGraw, but while I suspect you can take care of yourself, I was unaware you were an expert with experience at these particular maneuvers.”

“I’ll help ‘im,” said Anne. “Again. I’ll grab one of them, you the other.”

Thomas smiled and nodded at her.

“Thank you.”

“Quit thankin’ me and let’s get to it, yea?”

When Thomas turned back to Jack he was practically beaming at the redhead as she started down the hill.

“Magnificent, isn’t she?” he said.

“Yes,” said Thomas. “I see why you fancy her.”

Jack blinked, and—Thomas thought—blushed a little. Jack shook his head and seemed to refocus himself.

“Nevermind. You heard her. Let’s get to it.”

 

He and Anne made their way to the beach, once again using the bushes as cover. They ended soon enough, however, giving way to sand and some clusters of seagrass. They were forced to wait until the beach guard made another sweep, walking in a long oval towards them and looking out to the cave before turning back around and walking the other way. As soon as he’d turned they darted out of the bushes, crouching low and moving as quickly as they could.

Thomas felt the sudden exposure, his heart beating in his ears. He almost panicked when he realized there was no more cover to be had until they reached the water. But Anne showed him the way. They eased themselves into the surf, careful not to splash, and as soon as the water was at her shin Anne squatted and stretched herself out, slinking through the water. Thomas followed her lead, dropping his body and therefore reducing visibility. The sandy floor beneath him sloped further and further down, until he was paddling and then swimming quietly behind Anne.

They were approaching the rocky outcropping and cave from the far right, and just out of the line of sight of the guards in the boat. It occurred to Thomas they were more concerned with their prisoner escaping than they were of anyone coming inside the cave. He counted that in their favor as they reached a lone, jagged piece of rock jutting out beside the main cluster of them and caught their breaths.

“We need a distraction,” Thomas said.

“We need to kill them.”

But Thomas firmly shook his head.

“No. Not yet,” he whispered as loud as he dared. “We might need them.”

“Well what do you suggest?”

Thomas pushed himself off the rock and to the cave wall, collecting loose fragments of the slate-like rock there. Anne eyed it for a moment, then understood and nodded. Thomas re-positioned himself as close as he dared to the boat, then flung the rocky shards as hard as he could overhead. They landed with several splashes a few feet from the boat. Both of the guards dropped their cards and stood up abruptly, pistols in hand. There was some grumbling between them before they started rowing over to the source of the splash. Thomas and Anne made their way as quietly and quickly as they could to the cave.

Thomas kept his chin level with the water, heart pounding like a jackhammer as they came closer. He felt—for the first time since they’d arrived—his own mortality at risk, that all it would take was one of the guards to turn and see him, then shoot him dead, defenseless in the water.

His feet suddenly kicked solid sand, curving up. Anne grasped his shoulder and kept him low to the ground as they slipped into the mouth of the cave without incident. Thomas breath a small sigh of relief.

The cave quickly plunged them into full darkness for a few seconds. It was so black Thomas wondered where the rest of him was. Needle pricks of panic began to creep up his spine.

“I can’t bloody see!” he hissed out.

“Shh!” Anne replied. “Come on!”

He felt her hand on his arm and relaxed a little. Surely she must be growing apprehensive as well, though it was remarkable how she carried herself. He made a quick note to thank her later.

*

Jack Rackham’s bosun held up another finger, another one of Billy’s men dropping dead at his feet. Jack nodded back. That was half a dozen men out of the count. Their odds were improving. But just as the thought crossed his mind he caught movement behind the bosun.

“You there! Stop!” came the sudden order.

Jack hissed between his teeth. Everything happened in quick succession after that. His bosun was turning around, sword going high over his head but too late. The man’s pistol was already drawn. Jack got off his shot and hit his mark, but not before the man shot his bosun in the back. Jack had hit the guard in the arm. He came charging towards Jack but never made it. Mary Read appeared out of a clump of bushes directly in front of Jack, sword swinging. Together she and Jack finished him off, but not before yells and shouts arose from within the camp, echoing in the dark.

“Fuck,” said Jack. “Fuck fuck fuck!”

*

The gunshots cracked through the quiet of the night, causing both Anne and Thomas to startle.

“Shit,” Anne muttered. “We’ve got to hurry.”

Thomas was already moving forward again, heart jackhammering again but this time because there was light coming from around a bend in the narrow cave. He waded through the cold salt water as fast as he could. His pistol was raised but hope swelled high in his chest. The light came from a single torch, attached to the cave wall. And next to it was James, hanging from chains, the water at his chest.

“Oh god,” Thomas cried out, striding through the water so fast he nearly fell.

James’s head jerked up, expression changing from drowsy to shocked. Thomas’s arms engulfed him, face buried in his neck. Then he was kissing his cheek, holding back sobs.

“Thank the gods,” he muttered.

James opened his mouth several times to speak, like a fish gulping for air it thought it would never receive again.

“You’re here,” he finally breathed out. Then, in a louder voice that threatened to crack, “You’re here. How the fuck are you here?”

Thomas’s thumbs stroked James’s face as he rested their foreheads together. James was filthy and shivering but alive.

“Later,” Thomas replied. “We’ve got to get you out of here.”

James wrapped his arms around his lover just to check. He’d worried that day on the plantation that he was hallucinating too. But no, the familiarity of the body under his touch was quite real. He let himself sink into Thomas for a precious minute, feeling the weight of all his hopes and dreams and things he still did not believe he deserved come crashing back into existence with full fury.

“We’ve got to go,” Anne spoke up. James blinked and looked at her. He’d barely even noticed her before in the dim light. Her green eyes met his own and she nodded in greeting, then eyed his restraints.

“The keys are on one of the guards,” he said.

Thomas turned to move back out of the cave but Anne was already halfway gone.

“No,” she told him. “I’ve got this. Just keep a lookout from here.”

Thomas waded out to the curve of the bend behind Anne, wonder how on earth she was going to subdue two guards who were now no doubt on alert because of the gunfire, still ringing out in all directions. Perhaps they’d left their positions to go help.

From a few yards behind him James spoke, his deep voice echoing gently off the cavern walls.

“If she’s here then I assume Captain Rackham is too.”

“Yes,” said Thomas, peering out at Anne’s dark figure as she disappeared out the cave’s mouth. “I enlisted their aid when I arrived at Nassau Town.”

“Nassau?”

He heard the blatant surprise in James’s voice.

“But how did you—”

Thomas crossed back to James and handed him Billy’s letter from inside his shirt. James held it up to the torch and read it, sneering.

“That fucking bastard. Thomas, I’m so sorry you had to go through this.”

Thomas’s response was cut off with the sounds of a scuffle echoing around the bend. He heard an unmistakably female voice struggling. Thomas pulled out his pistol again and took off, forcing himself to ignore James’s cry of his name.

Anne was struggling hand-to-hand with her assailant, who looked to be bleeding heavily from –what else—a blade wound. Thomas took aim and brought him down with a shot to the head. A splash of blood and he dropped, freeing up Anne from where she was pinned against the rocks.

“The other guard?” Thomas asked.

“Dead.”

She held up her palm to show him the skeleton keys that dangled there. It could have been a trick of the light but he swore she was smiling.

Together they freed James and made their way outside the cave. The climbed into the now empty long boat. From the land most of the gunfire had ceased but as they rowed closer Thomas saw the fighting was now with swords.


	8. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so this turned out not to be the last chapter! It would have been really long, but here's a good long bit as a reward for the late update. Basically everyone is so full of gay feelings I can't. Flint and Billy have a chat. Thomas wants to murder for love. Anne and James have a moment. And Ben is precious.

James had little trouble adjusting to the outside dark; it was like daylight after the darkness of the cave. There was an all out small battle happening on the beach and in the camp. They stopped rowing well before the boat touched solid ground as a few bullets—stray or intentional—whizzed past them and instead made their to shore much the same way Thomas and Anne had left it—swimming quietly. They were attacked almost as soon as they reached the shore.

James picked up a sword lying next to a dead guard just in time as man who reminded him of Israel Hands came at him with two axes. He fought him off and slayed him, whirling around to find Thomas. The blonde was behind him, fighting off another guard. James was about to intercede when Thomas ducked and sliced his blade fully across the man’s stomach.

They came together and fought their way further inland to the camp, were most of the skirmish was taking place. As he cut down men James took in his surroundings, looking for Billy Bones. He spotted Jack Rackham, already with Anne again, to his left. To his right were the tents, one of which had been trampled down. And there, past the tents was Billy. He shot down another pirate, dropping a pistol and taking a swing with his sword at another. Nearby James also spotted Ben Gunn.

James turned to Thomas and nodded in Billy’s direction.

“Come on!”

They made their way haphazardly towards Billy. James instructed Thomas how to move.

“Keep your back to mine, stay close. And always watch for me!”

Thomas nodded. This way no one ambushed them and they were able to keep moving and fighting at the same time. James found himself watching out for Thomas almost too much, nearly getting his head knobbed off by a blade. But Thomas, it seemed, had learned well from their sword play together. They were nearly at Billy’s location when things turned sideways.

It was a smoke grenade. Though it had been a while since James’s last ship raid he recognized the sizzle of the fuse and the smell of the thick white-gray smoke that was pouring out all around him.

“Thomas!” the word left his throat automatically, but already he was under attack again. He couldn’t see his assailant, except to know he didn’t recognize him. He’d scarcely put an end to him when someone bumped into him from behind. He spun around, sword raised, but this face was familiar.

“Flint! It’s me,” said Rackham.

Together they moved out of the thickest of the smoke, though it was clearing quickly. Once it had James saw that circumstances had changed dramatically.

At first he saw a young pirate ahead and to his left he didn’t recognize. He’d captured Ben Gunn and was holding him at gunpoint. And then his breath caught in his throat. A few feet away Thomas was close behind Billy Bones, holding a sword across his throat, his other arm pinning Billy’s arm against his side.

“No! Please!”

It was not himself who made the cry but Ben, looking at Thomas and Billy, expression suddenly desperate. All fighting ceased.

James very quickly glanced around him. Jack stood at his right shoulder, glaring at Billy. Anne was to the other side of him, gaze fixated on Ben and his captor. Scattered around all of them were soldiers from both sides, tense and unsure of what to do with Billy now captured and threatened.

“Thomas…” James said quietly, raising a hand. What the fuck was he to do? What was Thomas going to do? His lover’s face was filled with a dark shadow, rage burning in his gaze at Billy. Upon hearing his name Thomas looked at him.

“He needs to die James.”

The sword across Billy’s throat straightened, turned slightly.

“Please, don’t!” came another plea from Ben. He looked from Thomas to James.

“Tell him not to.”

“Thomas…” James tried again. He could only imagine what Thomas must be thinking, of what he’d been through these long few weeks. He did, however, know what it felt like, to wait for revenge.

“Why the hell not?” Thomas asked him now. “He fucking stole you away in the night! Took you away…”

Thomas trailed off, jaw clenched tight. James winced, saw the moisture in his eyes, though it wasn’t from sorrow in this moment.

“He’d tried to kill you before,” continued Thomas in a shaking voice. “And you told me how angry you were that he betrayed you, betrayed all of you!”

Thomas’s swept to Jack and Anne. Jack stepped up beside James.

“He does have a damn good point, you know,” said Jack. “Mr. Bones has become nothing but a problem. Why not solve it now?”

James looked at Ben, who was straining against the hold the younger pirate had on him. He wondered painfully if Thomas had looked like that when they had dragged him out of his home and into Bethlem.

He sucked in a breath, praying this worked, and looked at Thomas.

“No,” he said.

Thomas’s brow furrowed.

“Why? Why does he deserve to live?”

James nodded and gestured at Ben.

“Because of him. Ben loves him.”

Thomas’s brows shifted again, the anger in his eyes giving way to momentary confusion, then—as James merely held his gaze—understanding. He turned and looked at the Irishman. Ben looked from James to Thomas and nodded, swallowing.

“I do. Please. Don’t hurt him. Kill me if you must but leave him be!”

“Shut up Ben!” growled Billy, who’d been completely quiet until now. He turned his head as much as the sword at his neck would allow to glare at Thomas.

“You take me. Don’t touch him,” he growled out.

A small sigh escaped James’s lips, barely noticeable. It was the first real indication he’d seen that Billy felt the same towards Ben. Thomas jerked Billy around so that they faced Ben.

“Do you love this man?” Thomas demanded to Billy’s ear.

Billy hesitated. Thomas jerked him roughly.

“Answer truthfully, damnit!”

“I—”

Billy’s face transformed. For the first time in a long time James saw the scrawny lad he’d rescued from the navy all those years ago, uncertainty and vulnerability scrawled on his face for all the world to see. Billy looked almost crestfallen.

If James had dared to shut his eyes in that moment, he knew he would almost be able to feel the burn of shame on Billy’s cheeks.

“I shouldn’t,” said Billy, looking directly at Ben. “I know I shouldn’t, but…I do. God help me, I do.”

He hung his head, eyes squeezed shut. James looked at Thomas, holding his breath. Thomas looked at Billy for a long minute before speaking again. When he did speak again his voice was calm, almost soothing.

“There is no ‘should’ or ‘shouldn’t’ when it comes to love. And God has nothing to do with it.”

Thomas lowered his sword slowly, then shoved Billy roughly towards Ben. James saw the young pirate holding Ben in place look to Anne, who then looked to him and Jack. And then he released Ben, who practically fell into Billy’s arms. Billy neither held him nor pushed him away, but simply stood there looking dumbfounded. Jack gave the signal for his men to lower their weapons. James noticed not all of them seemed to want to comply, but a hard glare from himself around the camp made them reconsider.

Billy turned and locked eyes with James. His voice when he spoke sounded as tired as he looked now.

“Why? Why can’t I just kill you?”

James just gazed at him, feeling another bout of sorrow for his ex-bosun. He shook it off as Thomas rejoined him, kissing him on the lips, heedless of their company. Then James turned to Ben.

“I need to speak with him alone for a moment, if you don’t mind.”

He put down his sword as he spoke. Ben nodded.

 

He’d tied Billy’s wrists together and gagged him just in case.

Together they made their way down the shoreline, away from the camp. When they were alone with just the moon above and crabs scuttling by below James stopped and turned looked at the horizon.

“I know you’ve grown tired of hearing me talk,” he began. “And for some time you’ve thought everything I’ve said is a lie or manipulation. But let me say these last few things and you’ll never have to hear from me again.”

He turned and looked at his captive. Billy stood passively, expression unreadable to James.

“I know how it must feel to be betrayed by those closest to you, to feel as though everything is as it should be one moment and then to feel that sudden, gut-wrenching drop when it’s all pulled out from under your feet. Most cruelly.”

James approached him until they were a foot or so apart. Billy’s eyes watched him, unlinking.

“I never told you about where I or Ms. Barlow came from. And it only made it easier for you to resent me. Miranda was Thomas Hamilton’s wife in London and I was a liaison in the navy sent to aid Thomas in reclaiming and restoring New Providence and Nassau for the crown. I had an affair with Thomas’s wife, but the story did not go the way you or a host of other people were told.”

James reached out and took the gag out of Billy’s mouth. Billy licked his lips and swallowed, looking disdainfully at him but remaining quiet. James saw the spark of interest there, overpowering his hatred for the time being.

“I had an affair with Miranda,” he continued, “but I also had an affair with him. It wasn’t an affair at all. We all love one another.”

Billy blinked rapidly, brows knitting together.

“The affair with her was a cover story. But eventually Thomas’s father discovered us regardless. We were betrayed by our allies, by those we trusted. Perhaps foolishly. Perhaps carelessly. I was forced away from Thomas, from the whole of England. Miranda and I both. We came to Nassau and I became…what I became, the man you’ve known these past eleven years. I was ruined by what had happened. And I let my grief and anger take away what was left of me.”

James felt the emotions rise in him like a rogue wave, with no one emotion discernable from another. Billy was staring intently at him, lips parted slightly.

“I let myself become a twisted version of who I was before and I pretended it was for a more noble cause. Your instincts were never wrong about me, Billy. Just…misguided. But my point is, this has happened to you.”

Billy looked away as though he’d been slapped, his jaw clenching.

“I know the need to place blame, to point and scream and fight at anyone and anything for what happened, but in the end your choices are still your own.”

“How can you say that?” Billy hissed between clenched teeth. “I only ever wanted to help and protect us, to make us better! But you and Silver…what the fuck happened between you two? You became friends, and then there was Madi…”

“Yes,” James said. “There was Madi and there was Miranda. And Thomas. And for you, Ben Gunn. Don’t you see, Billy? There doesn’t have to always be bloodshed and revenge!”

James looked at him earnestly, hoping against hope Billy would understand and dare to take the risk, but Billy looked baffled.

“What you’re suggesting….this life, this living with another man, perhaps you managed but do you honestly think that will last? How could it? Eventually someone will discover it, just like before. Tell me I’m wrong!”

James swallowed, feeling invisible glass shards go down his throat.

“We’ve considered that. And we would move on. Start over. Again. But we would be _together_.”

Billy looked away again, smiling bitterly.

“I used to want to be you, you know,” he said, so soft James wasn’t certain how to reply. He sucked in a breath. “You were…a good bosun, Billy. And the most loyal man I’ve ever known. You can still be loyal. To him.”

They fell silent, with only the sounds of crashing waves around them. Then a sea gull cried out. Billy looked up at it. James looked at him. The constant anger was gone from his face.

“It’s almost dawn,” said Billy. “We should get back.”

*

There was a meeting back in camp. Jack and his men were not pleased about letting the remainder of Billy’s men go free, but it was agreed that they could take whatever extra supplies were on Billy’s ship for The Colonial Dawn. After much dramatic fanfare from Jack and a near second battle breaking out they also agreed that Billy and his men could take a small portion of hardtack and water from The Colonial Dawn, just enough to make the journey to the nearest safe anchorage.

It was unclear as he and Thomas boarded The Colonial Dawn what Billy meant to do next, but James caught a glimpse of him with Ben inside a tent, embracing, as they finished loading supplies.

“Do you think they’ll make it?” Thomas asked him as they casted off back into the ocean.

James was standing at the railing, watching the island grow smaller as they gained speed.

“I think they have a fighting chance,” he replied. “If Billy can manage to channel all that energy of his into their relationship, that is.”

Thomas didn’t reply. After a moment James turned away from the horizon and to him.

“Are you all right?”

Thomas inhaled and exhaled slowly, then dropped his gaze to the deck.

“I was set on killing him, you know.”

“I know.”

“Nothing in this world was going to stop me from it, except for what happened.”

Thomas took James’s hand in his, stroking a thumb over his knuckles.

“Thank you for stopping me.”

James twined their fingers together.

“I’ve seen enough killing,” he said. “I’m too tired and queer to deal with it anymore,” he added under his breath.

Thomas glanced at him and they both chuckled. They were interrupted by Mary Read informing them that the captain was waiting for them in his cabin, wanting to hash out the details of how much of the cache was his. When she had left James gave him a hard look.

“I know,” said Thomas. “It is not what you want. But I’m not sorry. It was the only way they agreed to bring me to you.”

James’s gaze softened. He looked at Thomas a long time, simply enjoying his existence and trying to convey how grateful he was for that simple fact.

“It’s all right,” he said at last. “Come on.”

*

The meeting in Jack’s cabin was more or less agreeable to everyone. There was some haggling over the amount Jack and his crew would receive; Jack wanted at least half of it, given that he’d suffered losses in addition to saving James’s life. James had flat-out denied that amount, going down to thirty percent, which Anne then raised to forty, Thomas then lowered to thirty-five and Jack raised to thirty-eight before James agreed.

Once everything and everyone had settled he and Thomas both retired to the officer’s cabin together.

With less than half a day’s journey to Skeleton Island, James leaned against Thomas on the wide window sill, head resting just below Thomas’s chin, body stretched out over the blonde’s.

They’d been silent for some time. James was basking, for lack of a better word. Thomas would slowly run his fingers through James’s hair from time to time and James could feel his scalp tingle at the caress of the fingertips. He threaded the fingers of Thomas’s other hand through his own and rested them over his chest, dozing off.

Yet even in the midst of all this much needed serenity James’s mind would not turn off. He felt the urge to talk as much as he loathed the idea of it.

At last, when he grew irritated enough, he licked his lips and sucked in a breath.

“I realized something when I was held captive, something I was glad to feel and was not aware of before,” he began.

The hand stroking his hair paused for a moment.

“Yes?” Thomas asked, taking up the motion again.

James shifted slightly over him, rubbing a thumb over the top of Thomas’s, over the nail, and underneath before repeating the motion. It was comforting.

“The last time I was held captive,” he continued, “with no clear way out, I despaired. I told you this. When we were taken hostage by Madi’s mother.”

He bent his head back to look up at Thomas’s face. Thomas shifted to look back, dropping the hand that had been touching his hair. He nodded, blue eyes attentive.

“Yes. I recall.”

James swallowed, looking straight ahead.

“I told you I experienced bad dreams but I never went into detail. The truth is I dreamed about death. Not dying or images of other people dying, but death as it was spoken and written about in ancient times. Death as in Hades or Pluto; some sort of being.”

He felt the tiniest added pressure of Thomas’s legs against his own, pressing against him. He was grateful. It gave him courage.

“And this being—it was pure black, vaguely like a man but too vague for any distinguishing features—it called to me without a voice. I was…curious about it. About death. I was grieving for Miranda and…”

He stopped, unable to continue as images of Miranda’s specter came unbidden to his mind. He felt the decompression of Thomas’s lungs as he sighed, lips giving the gentlest of kisses to his cheek. It triggered tears. James squeezed his eyes shut and let the wave of emotion roll over and pass before he continued.

“…And I was ready to give it all up, to give up what I thought at the time was still part of our dream for Nassau. I realized how twisted it had become, how twisted I had become. But when I was chained to that rock wall by Billy, I realized that for the first time in a long time I feared death. I did not want it to come for me. I never had a single dream about it because I felt it all around me in my waking hours, and I hated it. I wanted nothing but to get back to you.”

He stopped again, choking on the words. His breath came out in a shaking sigh, two tears escaping his eyes and fleeing down his cheeks. Damnit, how could Thomas possibly understand what he was trying to say? He sounded like a fool…

Thomas squeezed him tight everywhere his limbs could squeeze, lips on his cheek again. This time James tilted his head to capture them with his own. He felt Thomas’s long fingers touching his cheek, the warmth from them evaporating his tears.

James pulled away from his lips, panting as he held back a sob.

“My truest love, my darling,” Thomas whispered, voice pained. He kissed James over and over again, small and chaste but urgent kisses.

For Thomas to utter his sympathies any more than he already had every time James shared a dark part of Flint with him would have been meaningless at this point, and James was thankful he did not. He much preferred touch and taste and smell and…oh, his cock was growing stiff.

He reached a hand up and pulled Thomas to him, kissing him on the lips and pushing his rump into Thomas’s crotch. He opened his mouth against Thomas’s, seeking more. Thomas parted his lips in response and James jammed his tongue inside. He felt Thomas buck up against him and a raw whine was punched up his throat.

“What can I do?” Thomas asked.

The question made James’s cock stir even more and suddenly he Wanted and Needed and Had to Have all at once.

He took Thomas’s hand and guided it down to his fly, unbuttoning it. Thomas joined in and dipped his hand inside without further encouragement. He pulled out James’s cock. James looked down and groaned as Thomas wrapped his fist around him and pulled slowly. James’s nostrils flared, his breath growing heavy.

Thomas’s thumb stroked over the underside of his head, back and forth, back and forth. When he reached the base of James’s cock his fingers fondled his scrotum with the same slow sensuality, then worked their way back over his shaft.

James felt his muscles relaxing. He let his eyes slide shut, pushing up into Thomas’s hand. How? How did Thomas always know what he needed with saying a word?

It was a marvelous puzzle he would never solve. Thomas tightened his grip over his cock as he stroked, picking up just a little speed. James moaned again, rolling his hips in response. He felt Thomas’s chest rise and fall faster and it made him forget all about Billy and specters and Death.

Here was life; two living and breathing human beings—two men—able to share one another, able to make the other’s body respond in ways that still baffled the mind.

He could ask for nothing greater.

James’s fist clenched around Thomas’s shirt as Thomas worked him faster. He felt the moment he began to leak. Thomas pulled all of his fingertips over the head of James’s cock, collecting the precum there and rubbing it all over.

A series of high pitched noises escaped James’s lips; sounds Captain Flint wasn’t capable of making. He bucked more into Thomas’s touch as Thomas ran his slickened fingers down over his shaft again, pressing hard. His lips were nibbling at James’s ear, his cheek, his jaw, then his neck. Thomas bucked harder up into him so that James could feel Thomas’s own erection through the cloth of their pants.

He grabbed a fistful of Thomas’s hair and moaned, growing desperate. He fucked hard up through Thomas’s fist.

“Yes, that’s it,” whispered Thomas, panting against him, “Take what you need.”

James looked down at their union through a thick sexual fog as his orgasm formed deep in his gut. He watched as his cock—Jesus, it was so beautifully swollen and red—thrusted up into Thomas’s fist over and over. He let out little grunts as it crept even closer upon him, heat breaking out all over his body. Thomas’s cock rubbed up hard against his ass.

“My sweet, my darling,” Thomas whispered at his ear, his breath hot and heavy. He ran his other hand down under James’s shirt and pulled at his nipples. The too-tight pinches pushed him over the edge and he spilled over, letting out a low groan. Stars burst behind his eyelids. He forced his eyes open to see. His cock pulsed out come over Thomas’s fist in thick white strings. Thomas murmured softly in his ear, daft fingers milking the last of his seed from him and making James whine and shiver anew.

He felt dazed and light-headed and loved and satisfied all at once. A single tremor shook him. He reached down and brought Thomas’s hand to his face, licking and sucking at his own come. Thomas moaned and their lips met, Thomas’s tongue eagerly getting at the come now in James’s mouth and on his lips. James moved to stand up, wanting to repay the favor.

“No,” Thomas said firmly, catching him and pushing him back down. “There’s no need.”

At first James was disappointed, thinking Thomas was no longer aroused, but then Thomas reached between them, wiping a hand over his crotch and bringing it up so James could see. He’d spilled in his pants.

James kissed him fiercely then. He’d never known another man who could come from witnessing another’s pleasure alone.

“I fucking love you,” he rasped out.

They kissed softly and spoke of soft things for a few more minutes.

When James woke next it was to the sights and sounds of Skeleton Island.

*

“You’re not coming.”

They’d reached the island and were ready to go into the interior for the cache—all of them, or so Jack thought.

Jack gave James a long, disbelieving stare before blinking rapidly.

“ _Excuse_ me?”

It was clear to Thomas that James’s trust of Captain Rackham only stretched so far. He wondered if that was indicative of his relationship with the other captains and crew members during his time in Nassau. Based on the events and partnerships James had told him about he figured it must be so. It was a hard thing, Thomas knew, to exist for such a long time and trusting no one. Though the same had been true for him, it hurt worse knowing James had experienced the same.

It seemed as though the more Time distanced them from their traumatic events and let some scars heal, It kept coming back to wound them in other places when It could. Thomas shook the thoughts away and focused on the present.

“You honestly intend to not take the remainder of the gems and leave the cache here?” Jack was asking now.

“There’s enough gems in there for all four of us to live well off of for the rest of our lives,” said James, looking around to indicate Thomas and Anne as well. “And your share is a large haul by any standard. So no, I’m not taking all of it.”

Jack scoffed, smiling without mirth. “Need I remind you that we just left another party member who knows of the cache very much alive? One who will probably come here and attempt to find it for himself just for spite? And not to mention Silver is still out there somewhere, and Mr. Scott’s daughter. Am I the only one who thinks this is a very shitty idea?”

Thomas took a deep breath.

“We do not have to leave it here,” he interjected.

James and Jack and Anne all turned to him. Thomas met James’s eyes.

“I have a proposal. You once told me you’d like to retrieve the cache once there was a good reason for doing so, a need that could be fulfilled with it that benefitted others.”

James gave a slow nod, eyes dancing all around Thomas, trying to figure him out. It always did delight him in the fondest of ways when he’d stumped James. His James, who was always so good at analyzing other people’s motives and behaviors, save for his lover’s. Thomas eyed Jack and Anne.

“I sit on the town council in Savannah,” he began. “We recently debated the need for more plantations and more slave labor. I could use this money to hire workers instead of slaves, and even pay the plantation owners whom I know would be so persuaded to liberate a good portion of their slave labor for a hefty sum. Many of those slaves aren’t even needed to keep the plantations in good running order, and many townsfolk would secretly agree with me.”

Jack simply arched one of his thin and spindly eyebrows, looking to James. Thomas did the same, hoping that he’s sounded as passionate as he felt about it. James could not say no. He nodded at Thomas, smile hiding underneath all that orange hair.

“That would be a good reason,” he said softly, eyes like liquid silk that made Thomas feel warm all over.

Jack rolled his eyes.

“Oh _please_.”

Anne ticked the corner of her mouth.

“Come on, Jack,” she prodded. “Let’s take the deal and be done with it. Count our blessings. The crew’ll be happy.”

There was no real animosity in the air between any of them today, and Jack, Thomas suspected, did not wish to create any beyond all his bravado. He agreed to the terms and then James and himself started towards the cache alone.

There was a time or two where James wasn’t certain about their direction, but after a few hours they came upon an open area that was a low point on the island with rocky outcroppings that signaled to James they were nearly there. They each had brought along thick canvas sacks to transfer the gems into, thus eliminating the need to carry the chest. Which, as Thomas soon discovered, was every bit as heavy as James had indicated, recounting to him the struggle with which he and Dooley had dragged it here.

The collection of gems were truly remarkable. He opened the pouches they were in to marvel at their variety and color. A few he recognized from his father’s dealings long ago. Perhaps he’d seen a few in jewelry pieces as well. James let out a throaty chuckle. Thomas looked up.

“What?” he asked innocently.

James just grinned. “Do I need to say it?”

“What, that an ex-lord looks absurd gawking at wealth? No, you do not. And I don’t care. They’re still beautiful,” he added self-righteously but with a grin to James.

They returned to the beach with their sacks full. Jack insisted they divide up the shares before re-boarding so they did, carefully spreading out the stones on a piece of canvas. Once divided Anne scoop their share into a few pouches and secured them on the long boat.

“Well that wasn’t so bad,” said Jack, grinning broadly and looking quite pleased.

“Surprisingly, no,” James drawled out.

Jack looked at him.

“I half-expected you to try and shove a few up your sleeve,” said James.

It took a few seconds before Jack realized James was jesting. Thomas watched fondly as they smiled at one another. He turned to Anne beside him, catching her gaze. Anne removed her hat and offered him her hand. Thomas blinked in surprise and accepted it.

“You ain’t so bad either,” she said to him. Then she jerked her head to James. “And neither is he. A goddamn handful, though, I bet.”

Thomas laughed out loud. “At times, yes he is,” he agreed.

They boarded Jack’s ship again and plotted a course back to Nassau. From there Jack offered to secure them safe passage home, but James politely declined and told him they’d find their own way. Later Thomas asked him why, though he already suspected the answer.

“Trust myself on a ship full of men loyal to Rackham with the gems he wants? Hardly,” said James.

It was probably for the best, Thomas had agreed. Still he told James that he rather liked the man and they spent some time talking about the other pirates James had known over the years in what was a rare moment of fond memories for James. At last they made it to Nassau’s port and said their good-byes.

Thomas shook Anne’s hand again, this time clamping his other hand over hers warmly. Her dark eyes looked up fully at him.

“Take care of yourself, Ms. Bonny. And this one.” Thomas nodded at Jack. “And Ms. Read as well,” he added softly. Anne’s gaze turned gentle for a few precious seconds before she nodded and reclaimed her hand, putting her hat back on.

 

Anne came up to James and motioned for him to follow her away from Thomas and Jack as they spoke farewells.

“I know this is goin’ to sound fucking strange comin’ from me,” said Anne, her arms tightly crossed, “But some advice. It ain’t never gonna be easy for people like us.”

James looked at her, confused. “People like…”

“People who love like us,” Anne clarified.

James blinked. Oh. _Oh._

“But whatever happens, don’t ever think you can let him go, even for a moment. Sometimes that’s all it takes. For what’s really important to slip away. Max nearly made that mistake. So did I.”

James stared dumbly, struck speechless. Finally he nodded at her.

“Thank you,” he managed.

She grunted and turned away.


	9. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is it, the epilogue! Thanks to everyone who's read and left kudos and commented, I love you guys! So basically James and Thomas return to their adoptive daughter and she just...loves James and I want to cry over that fact. And there is post-reunion reunion sexiness and I shamelessly use show dialogue parallels. Anyways thanks again and pretty please leave me one final comment? <3

It was a relief to finally make it back home.

The cabin was much the same as when James had last seen it—a testament to Abigail’s caretaking—and he immediately felt safe in the cozy building, inhaling the scent of pine and cedar around him.

The woman of the house was there, eagerly accepting them home.

“Mr. McGraw!” she exclaimed, eyes brightening like Christmas. She hiked up her dress to make a rush towards James, who laughed out loud as she threw herself most un-ladylike into his embrace. James hugged her without hesitation and he found himself holding her close, eyes misted over. He’d genuinely missed her. More than he realized until this moment.

“Call me James,” he said quietly with a smile when she pulled back.

“James,” Abigail said confidently and it was like looking at Miranda all those years ago. It made his heart sing.

“Are you all right?” she asked. “They didn’t hurt you too badly, did they?”

“No my dear. A few bumps and bruises but I’ll be fine.”

“I was so distraught when Thomas informed me of your kidnapping. And I think I was more saddened than anything else to learn it was Mr. Manderly who was responsible. The man I remember meeting on your ship did not seem capable of such a monstrous thing.”

“Even the best men are capable of great cruelty when pushed,” said James in a sobering tone. It was a hard truth they all had come to know. Billy Bones. Thomas’s father. Abigail’s father. John Silver. Himself. Even without looking, James felt Thomas’s gaze fall on him at the words. Of course he was referring to himself, and he did not want to see the ache in his lover’s gaze over it.

Abigail rested a hand on his shoulder and squeezed.

“But not all men stay cruel. It is not in their nature.”

James swallowed hard. It was still difficult to accept such kindness like this from anyone, even Thomas at times. But he was learning.

Later that evening after they’d eaten a hearty amount of Abigail’s rapidly-improving cooking (which had by no means ever been bad but seemed to be growing into the realms of deliciousness each time they ate it) they finally settled down.

“I think I’ll get a fire started,” said Thomas. “It’s getting a bit cooler at night…”

James gently grabbed Thomas’s wrist before he could get away and pulled him into a hard kiss, his lips needy and urgent. Not the least bit surprised, Thomas immediately returned it, arms fumbling around James’s as they moved to each other. Thomas pressed himself up against James’s front, hips grinding into his. James pushed back against him until he could feel Thomas growing hard. Thomas broke away from his lips, panting slightly. His eyes were closed. James cupped his face, resting their foreheads together.

“I despaired,” James confessed in a hushed, shaking tone.

Thomas stroked his hair and swallowed hard. God, how afraid he’d been with James gone. Would he ever be able to convey that fear into words?

“I know,” he replied. “So did I.”

James found himself unable to reply. His hands were trembling as they wound up Thomas’s back, pulling him into another kiss.

They haphazardly made it into the bedroom. James yanked and tugged at Thomas’s clothes all the way to the bed. Once his shirt was off Thomas moaned as James’s fingers—hot to the touch—raked down his chest, hands sliding around his stomach as he bent down and put his mouth over Thomas’s nipple.

Thomas was already fumbling at James’s trousers, unfastening them quickly and sliding his hand inside. James’s mouth came off his nipple just long enough to moan when Thomas’s hand found his cock and began stroking it to life.

The backs of Thomas’s knees bumped into the bed. He lay down, pulling James on top of him as they both yanked him out of his pants.

Naked from the waist down, Thomas eyed him and the way his thick thigh muscles shone from under his shirt, cock flushed and hard. He wrapped his legs around the small of James’s back, sucking on the pulse on the side of his neck. James cursed softly, rutting up against Thomas’s crotch. Thomas felt fingers dig inside his pants. He closed his eyes at the sensation of James’s cock suddenly against his as they were forced together. He licked a stripe behind James’s ear and felt James shudder.

“Let me fuck you,” said James.

Thomas nodded without hesitation, scooping James’s ass into his palms and pressing as much of James’s skin against him as he could. James rutted their cocks together more and Thomas briefly wondered if he would ever feel like enough was enough with James. He couldn’t imagine such a thing.

James was pulling out a vial of linseed oil from the drawer. He sat back on his knees, straddling Thomas. Thomas ran his hands eagerly over James’s insanely gorgeous and thick thighs, feeling their power under his touch.

James slicked his cock, making a show of it and bucking back and forth over Thomas. Their eyes locked. Thomas felt his mouth go dry.

“Take off your shirt,” he said.

James did so, flinging it to the floor. Thomas’s hand wondered over his stomach. He flicked his thumbs over each of James’s nipples, then hooked his hand behind his neck and pulled him down. Their lips clashed again. James’s fingers rubbed over his cleft. Thomas let his knees fall out. James hummed deep, face buried in Thomas’s neck as his fingers went to work, opening him.

Thomas squirmed under the pleasure. He hooked a leg around James’s back again and pressed down. If he could have melded their bodies together he would have.

“I’m sorry,” he said suddenly. “I’m sorry I didn’t wake up when Billy came, that he was able to take you—”

“No,” said James, pulling back to look at him. He was breathing hard, face flushed as he looked at Thomas in mild shock. Thomas screwed his eyes shut, then blinked furiously.

“It’s stupid, I know…”

“It’s not. Your. Fault.”

James firmly pressed his palm to Thomas’s cheek, forcing him to look up.

“It is not your fault,” he repeated, more gently this time, eyes burning bright with emotion.

Thomas nodded and swallowed. Then he moaned and arched up into James to let him know he still needed this now.

James’s finger wiggled until he breached Thomas’s rim. Thomas grunted at the sudden bundle of heat and nerves being stimulated there.

When James had worked a second finger in Thomas already felt half mad with want.

“I’m ready,” he said in-between fervent kisses.

James sat back on his knees again, but then he shuffled his way down Thomas’s body and stretched out flat, face disappearing between Thomas’s thighs before Thomas could quite respond.

“Ahh, fuck,” he said instead as James’s tongue, warm and wet, pushed just inside him, then flicked in and out, demanding. It went on for a precious minute or two and made Thomas’s pulse seem to quiver in his very veins. Then James swiftly shoved his fingers back in and Thomas keened. James was aggressively attentive.

“James,” he moaned out at last, fingers gripping James’s ruddy hair.

James re-positioned himself over Thomas and took hold of his cock. He pushed in gently. When his head completely breached Thomas he bit his bottom lip. Thomas felt his stomach drop as James eased inside him half-way, then started fucking him at an almost torturously slow pace.

Thomas’s eyes slipped shut. James grunted in the back of his throat each time his cock pushed in. Then he settled himself further down over Thomas, feet pushing back against the pillows as he pushed himself fully inside.

The air was punched out of Thomas, his entire body zinging and tingling hotly. He bracketed James’s sides with his knees as James started fucking him steady. He could still remember how James first fucked him with wild abandon. It had been amazing but James had thought there was no other way to have sex with a man then, until Thomas had tutored him in the ways of love.

Now James had surpassed him in it, making Thomas’s heart ache the same time his cock screamed for release when James looked down at him as he did now, sea-green eyes always full of tidal waves that could crash into Thomas’s soul if Thomas stared long enough. They did so now as James took him, filling him to the brim until they were both covered in sweat and panting into the other’s mouth, ready to tip over.

James fucked him faster. Thomas let his head roll to the side, his breath impossibly short as he felt the hot pricks of orgasm building within him. Pleasure roiled through him. James let out high-pitched grunts into his neck. Thomas clung to him, pushing on his ass to keep him in deep. They came at nearly the same time—a rarity. James scooted just enough to not smother Thomas but kept an arm and a leg over him as they came down after their release.

James lightly wrapped his palm over Thomas’s throat and stroked his jaw with a thumb. He dozed off and on. When they finally roused themselves it was almost time for bed. James went outside to double check on the horses and give them some attention (he’d missed them too, though he’d never admit such a thing to Thomas, who would no doubt find it endearing and tease him about it).

Then he stood on the porch and gazed at the silhouettes of all the peach trees in their orchard. There was work to be done here as well as in town. He’d have to go there tomorrow and reassure everyone he was well. And he’d need to stop by work and begin catching up on whatever items his apprentice was no doubt wrestling with on his own, terrified he’d been abandoned probably. One problem at a time.

For the first time James was looking forward to all of it. He wanted to see his apprentice. He wanted to see the ridiculous and flirtatious Henrietta and Duncan Levingston, the apothecary, again. He wanted to have more meals with Abigail and her fiancé.

Billy’s words on the beach came back to him, that one day he and Thomas would be found out again. He had been implying that it was inevitable. But nothing was inevitable.

A strange memory came to him then, a conversation between Eleanor and himself before he had set off to go after the Urca gold. He recalled his words to her:

_Nobody will believe it’s possible until we show them. But when that day comes, you know what they’ll say? They’ll say that it was inevitable._

He remembered wishing Thomas was with him when he’d spoken them.

James shivered in the night air. He once had thought his separation from Thomas had been inevitable and even his death, in his darkest moments.

_Nothing is inevitable here._

Silver’s words. James felt more than thought about them here, in this place. He smiled at the darkness and went back inside.

***


End file.
